


The Wolf Hour

by LadyBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Curses, F/M, Ghosts, Gothic, Post-World War I, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/pseuds/LadyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wolves howling on a moonless night, gypsy camps slaughtered by savage creatures that came from the dark forest. He was holding his hunting gun, aiming at the darkness, where a beast with golden eyes stared at him until suddenly there was no monster staring at him. He turned his back to face a woman with a pale face and long dark hair. Her beauty was ethereal, nearly phantasmagoric. She touched his face, she kissed him on the lips and bite his neck amidst a lust hush. <i>This is a dream.<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scotland, 1919. 

  


The wind whispered through the shutters, making sounds that reminded him of a woman’s loving voice. He walked the corridors with nothing but a lamp in hand to light the way back to his room. Empty old houses in a winter night…His life had become something that gothic novelist could use in their stories. 

Luwin and Osha had done their best to make him comfortable, although the house was far too old and abandoned since Lady Arryn had married and moved away to her husband’s state. Not enough money to keep the ancient glory of those dark grey walls and none of the former inhabitants had survived to keep the property. This place is haunted. It had always been. 

He had arrived early that day, causing a furor at the local community with his extravagant behavior. An automobile and a wolf as a pet. They were calling him Mad Jon already, but given the local rumors about the Starks’ curse, he supposed that his eccentricity was nothing in comparison. 

Eventually he got lost in the infinite amount of corridors and empty rooms. He hated how everything screamed about abandonment, with all those white sheets covering the furniture that once had been a source of pride and status. Lady Catlyn could flay anyone that dared to scratch the mahogany. She would have flayed me if given the chance. That was hardly a proper memory for the time, but he couldn’t help it. 

Wolves carved in stone and dark wood stared at him, live solemn guardians of the Stark’s treasure. They seemed to judge him, judge his presence and if he was worthy or not of being there. 

His steps lead him to the long corridor that sheltered some of the finest antiquities in the house. Portraits, sculptures, miniatures and countless canvas that told the ancient history of that place and that land. All of them covered as if they’ve become too shameful to even look at. 

He pulled away the sheet that covered one of the canvas hanged on the portrait gallery. He used to like that place when he was young. The faces of all the Lords of Winterfell were there, looking at him with interest and reproach, along with the dates of birth and death of each one of them. 

There was only one portrait of a woman hanged in those walls and perhaps that was the reason why he loved that place. He looked at those familiar grey eyes and the pale beauty of the youthful face of his mother. Young, beautiful, willful and dead before her time, like all the Starks. 

“I came back mother.” He whispered to the painting as if the lady could actually hear his voice. The voice of a son she never got to know. She looked sad and formidable, as if she could embody the spirit of Winterfell in a way that only those who bared the name Stark could. “I came to claim the title and the land. I wonder if you would be happy for me.” 

The exquisite pale face seemed to look at him with concern and tenderness of a mother that he never knew. Some said that Lady Lyanna had been one of the first victims of what they called the Starks’ Curse. Superstitious fools, the whole lot of them, but even the most reasonable man had to admit that the Stark family had been victimized by a succession of unfortunate events. 

This house have more ghosts than any graveyard ever could hope to accommodate. Most of them swept away from the living’s world at a young age. Maybe I’m here to dig my own early grave. The thought gave him chills while the wind howled through the corridors, imitating the cry of a woman. The house wept. Winterfell was in greave. 

There was no paint of any of his cousins there. Only the solemn face of Eddard Stark, looking at him with eyes made of ice. His uncle had been a formidable man and it was just sad to imagine him dead in such a horrible way. 

Those that were not killed in the accident, perished either in war or were struck by the Spanish Fever. Only the girls remained… Lady Sansa vowed to never step within this house again. Arya…That is another mystery to Winterfell’s collection. 

“I’m Lord Stark of Winterfell now.” He said to the pictures as if waiting for some kind of reaction. “I’m here to soil the memory of all of you, prideful Starks. A bastard…What do you think of it, uncle? I stand in the place that should have belonged to one of your sons.” 

The wooden floor creaked in protest. There was noise everywhere in the house. He could even hear the steps of the employees walking the halls, lighting fireplaces, making beds…He could see his own breathing turning into fume. The freezing Scottish nights, he almost forgot about them. 

The wind became angrier, as if protesting against his presence there. An angry cry of desolation, that made the trees swing their naked branches, forming terrifying shadow figures. Dark claws of furious beasts. The fire in his lamp faded away living Jon in the most utter darkness. At least the night was a bright one and that would have to be enough to guide him back to his chambers. 

He turned to his left briefly, just to take a look at the window and have a glimpse of the night sky. A cold breeze passed him by, giving him an involuntary shiver. For a moment he thought that he might be too tired, or starting to allow all of the local superstitions to take the best of him, but it seemed to be very real. Ghosts reflected in windows and wolves howls filling the night. 

Pale face and dark long hair waving in the wind. The silhouette of a young woman in an old white dress. She was looking at him with savage eyes through the glass. Her delicate mouth contorted in a cruel smirk. 

Jon turned his head back to face his mother’s portrait again. The resemblance was impressive but it lasted a second or two. The woman at the gallery vanished as if she was made of smoke. He looked at the end of the gallery, trying to find a sign of the lady ghost. Is that you, mother? Are you here to take me too? The question was inevitable. I’m not a Stark. That’s not my place. 

He walked away from that haunted corridor, looking for his way back to the main chamber. His steps against the mahogany floor echoing. His breath heavy and his heart bumping furiously. It could be the whiskey, it could be his doubts about the inheritance. There are no ghosts here, just me and my tormented mind. There’s no curse and I’m no Stark. 

He finally found his way to the room, closing the massive wooden door behind him to keep the questions and the spirits away. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. That wasn’t his place and even the house seemed to know it. 

He sat on the bed, admiring the delicate hand work at the posts and feeling the texture of the furs that covered the mattress. Everything there smelled of history and spooky stories meant to terrorize young children. I used to be one of them, listen to Old Nan’s stories and being afraid of every shadow in this place. I used to like it. 

He opened one of the drawers, looking for matches and candles, just in case he needed them. Soon he would have to adapt that house to the modern times. Electric light would be a start. Perhaps some light could send the spirits away. Jon found no matches or candles, but his fingers touched the borders of thick photograph paper. 

He looked at it with interested and difficulty, given the insufficient light provided by the fire place. His heart ached. There were several of them in the drawer. Old photographs, most of them from a time when tragedy seemed to be a funny notion. 

Ned and Lady Catlyn standing proud by Sansa’s side. Her first ball, he supposed. The day she made her debut in society just to beat every girls’ hopes of catching a good suitor flat. She was a vision in white dress. He remembered that day and how she avoided dancing with him. In another one Robb stood proud, wearing his uniform of the British Army. He got on a train to France that day, talking about coming back home in time for Christmas, but the truth was that he never came back. 

Bran and Rickon, at a very young age, playing with a boat miniature at the drawing room with Lady Catlyn looking at them protectively. Lady Stark’s exquisite portrait at her wedding day. Lady Arya Stark riding a horse, wearing trousers and a man’s saddle with a defiant look in her eyes. Lady Arya as a debutant. 

Those were all sad memories and Jon doubted that Lady Sansa had forgotten any of those photographs. She left them behind on purpose and Jon’s heart felt heavy on his chest. All of them dead or missing. 

He looked at the photograph of his cousin one more time. The youthful and defiant expression of Arya Stark on a horseback as if she was capable of fighting against the world. How does a young woman simply vanish from her house was still a mystery. She simply did, though. Some said she had run away with a gypsy boy given to melancholy after Bran and Rickon were taken by the flue. That was something only she would do, he supposed. 

Jon sighted. He could try to find her. She would never inherit the title, since the girls were excluded from the line of succession, but she was entitled to a generous income. Maybe if he brought her back, that place would seem more sympathetic to him. 

He fell asleep with the photographs spread all over the bed. His head hanging to the left in an angle that lately would provide him with great discomfort. 

Wolves howling on a moonless night, gypsy camps slaughtered by savage creatures that came from the dark forest. He was holding his hunting gun, aiming at the darkness, where a beast with golden eyes stared at him until suddenly there was no monster staring at him. He turned his back to face a woman with a pale face and long dark hair. Her beauty was ethereal, nearly phantasmagoric. She touched his face, she kissed him on the lips and bite his neck amidst a lust hush. This is a dream. He thought at the touch of lips against the skin of his neck. The pain came along as quick as the bite of a snake. He smelled his own blood just before tasting it from the mysterious woman’s lips. 

He growled as the kiss became more and more wild. Howls formed in his throats. There was blood, and claws, and bites. Naked bodies in the dark, black hair covering the ground and the sound of animals mating in the woods. The woman let her sounds of pleasure take the air around them. Soon it became a serenate, until they were covered in blood and the smell of earth and sweat. Until they were no longer humans, but giant furred creatures. Wolves thirsty for carnage. 

He woke up feeling as cold as a corpse. The fire had extinguished while he was asleep, making the room a dark freezing place. His heart was uncontrollable inside his chest, beating as fast as a drum. Soon it would be dawn, and he would be able to contact the Electricity Company. Once there was light he could see to other things that needed to be done in order to make that house a proper place to live, beginning with a telephone. 

A valet came to help him with his clothes. He remembered those kinds of rituals that permeated the life of the Starks. He used to like it, but after the Great War it all seemed to be a tad unnecessary and frivolous. Satin was a young man with a beautiful face and a dubious reputation, but as long as he never crossed the limits of decency, Jon had no real problem with him being his valet. 

He looked at his image in the mirror. He probably looked odd with all the beard and the hair, but at least it would help him to remind the local tenants that although he was young, he was no less capable of being the Lord of Winterfell. 

“If I may say, my lord looks like the former Lord Stark.” Satin said in an attempt of a compliment. “The locals will notice it and I believe it will be for the best.” 

“Thank you, Satin.” He replied politely before noticing that the valet was looking at the photographs spread all over the bed. “Did you know them well, Satin? My family, I mean.” 

“I suppose so. I was a valet to Lord Robb, and helped the young masters whenever it was necessary. The Lady Sansa was always polite to me and I have no complains about how I was treated here.” He said calmly. 

“What about Lady Arya?” The question seemed to get Satin uncomfortable all of a sudden. That was peculiar, but given the rumors about her disappearance Jon understood that Luwin might have made her name unspeakable to him. 

“I was quite fond of her, my lord.” There was a twist of sadness in his voice. “She had spirit and never really cared about rank. She was a friend to everyone and she overlooked all of my flaws.” 

“That was a very accurate description of her.” Jon pointed with a bittersweet smile. “I was wondering about reopening the case and have the police investigating her whereabouts. I would like if you inquired the other servants about anything that might help us to find Lady Arya.” 

“Would it be a wise decision, my lord? The lady had been missing for almost a year and it is likely that her reputation is beyond repair now.” Satin looked at him with concern, but Jon paid him no attention. 

“I could not care less about her reputation. I’m more concerned with the fact that she is entitled with a generous income and she should have it. I’m worried that she might be in some sort of difficulty and it is my duty to see to her wellbeing.” Jon insisted, although his statement seemed to be a bit of a shock to Satin. “My own existence was a source of shame to this house. I will not throw upon Arya’s shoulders the same kind of harsh judgment that my mother suffered.” 

“It is said that my lord had courted the lady at the time of her debut.” Satin said impertinently. Jon looked at him with disapproval. It was not his place to question him about such matters. 

“Yes, I did. Lady Stark made it quite clear that I was not an appropriated match to her daughter and that was that.” Jon replied in a sober tone. “I’m not interested in reopening the case because of that, though. I truly believe that if she is still alive she deserves to receive her inheritance. I'll do whatever is in my power to make it happen. I own her that much.” 

“It would be for the best to have the gypsies questioned, I suppose.” Satin stated. “A camp was recently formed in the borders of the village and Lady Arya had befriended a gypsy boy by the time of master Brandon and master Rickon’s death. There are some curious rumors about them anyway. Some nasty things had happened in the last months and the locals blame them for it.” 

“What kind of things?” Jon looked skeptically at him. 

“Some ships were missing from some farmer’s flocks. Cows too. They insist that the gypsies were stealing them, but nothing could be proved. Few days before my lord’s arrival, three men were found in the woods. All of them dead in the most savage way. The sheriff said it was an animal attack.” 

“Surely the gypsies can’t be blamed by these deaths. The woods are full of wolves. Everyone knows that.” Jon insisted although he knew how superstitious and antiquate those people could be. 

“The locals won’t rest until something is done about them. They claim that a monster started to roam around the land after they arrived. A giant she-wolf that leads a pack of the grey small ones. The fact that my lord had his own extraordinary beast does not help either. Ghost is a fuel to the small folk’s imagination.” Satin warned him promptly, making Jon laugh a bit. 

“Imagine what will say when I have electricity installed here. They will call me Frankenstein and burn Winterfell to the ground.” Jon laughed bitterly. “I assure you that I’m no material for a Shelley’s novel, or a penny dreadful. Call the local sheriff and I’ll discuss the matter of the deaths and what can be done about Lady Arya’s case. For now it will be all, Satin.” 

In plain daylight, Winterfell looked more like a decadent manor than a haunted house. The place was still ancient, but gave Jon no unnecessary anxiety. With a reform and some modern facilities it could even become a decent place for him to live and even be opened to public visitation. It would limit his privacy, but it could be a good source of income. 

He took a walk through the lands of the state with only Ghost to keep him company. If the problems with wolves’ attacks proved to be true the locals might have a reason to suspect of him and it would be an unwanted nuisance. Winter was just beginning and the cold was already hard to take. 

From the top of a hill he could see the gypsy camp, with their chariots and colorful tents. The men offered to do any paid job at the village, while the women sold dried herbs and did their fortune telling in order to get a copper or two. With the killing and the disappearance of animal, they wouldn’t be around for much time, but winter could keep them near Winterfell until spring. 

He envied the gypsies somehow. At least at the camp there was plenty of people talking, and shouting and singing, while he was exiled at that old castle with no one to keep him company. He wished that Arya was there to make him laugh and take him on a ride across the fields. He closed his eyes and it was as if could see her riding her Queen Eleanor, with boy’s clothes and hair lose. He would never give a second thought about her reputation as long as he came back home safe. 

He contacted the electricity company and they would be able to proceed the installation during the week. It gave him a perspective, or at least made him feel more like the Lord of Winterfell than a lucky outcast. By the tea time, Luwin entered his study to inform him about the presence of the sheriff. 

Jory Cassel was a young local man that Jon had known for a long time. He was the eldest son of the later sheriff and took his father’s office after his death several years ago. Cassel was competent and sympathetic to him as much as any local could be, given the scandal involving his mother abduction. 

Cassel made a courtesy and look at him with a stern face of a man ready to do his job. Jon offered him whiskey, but he declined immediately. He was a dutiful man after all. 

“It’s good to see a familiar face around here.” Jon confessed. “I trust that you already started the investigations about the three deaths and the animals.” 

“Indeed, my lord. I’m only afraid that there’s no other conclusion but the one I already gave. It was an animal attack for sure. The wolves are all over the woods and the only extraordinary thing about it is the she-wolf.” 

“The giant one, you mean?” Jon asked curiously. 

“Precisely. I can see that you already heard the rumors.” Jory seemed surprise. “That one I can confirm as true. I’ve seen the beast myself while patrolling the woods in search of evidences. Tremendous beast, very much like the one you’ve brought.” 

“Ghost is trained and very obedient.” He immediately defended his pet, although he knew that there were few that would ever understand his choice for an animal. Arya would have liked the idea. Suddenly he felt sad. 

“I don’t doubt it, sir. I’m simply warning you that people will talk and even blame your animal for the attacks. It would be for the best to keep him locked up until this unusual agitation is over.” 

“It will be done.” Jon assured him before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “There’s another reason for my call. I hoped that you could help me with another matter.” 

“If this matter is the disappearance of Lady Arya, I’m afraid that I might be useless to you.” Cassel answered with solemn tone, one that Jon recognized from condolences. “Rumor has it that she wasn’t herself since Lord Robb’s death. Then came the accident and the flu. I’m afraid that her poor mental state deteriorated to the point of turning the lady into a stranger to everyone. Lady Arryn tried to intern her in a mental institution, but Lady Arya disappeared before anything could be done.” 

“One could hardly blame her for doing so. A mental institution! What kind of sister could possible condemn her own kin to such a fate?” Jon drank a generous amount of the whiskey in his glass. The taste of the liquor burned his throat just like the anger that burned in his veins. “She was desolated. She was mourning the loss of nearly her entire family, for God’s sake!” 

“She became violent, sir. I saw it. She nearly killed a man. Lord Jeoffrey Lannister, from Casterly.” Cassel said apologetically. “Doctor Tarly also reported that she had attempted suicide after Lord Brandon’s funeral. I’m deeply sorry about her fate and yours, but it would be probably for the best if she was dead like the others. She was in too much pain.” 

“What about the gypsy boy? There was a rumor that she might have run away with him.” Jon insisted. 

“We investigated the camp and all of the gypsies. A reward was offered and it was a generous one, but no one could tell where she was. The person you are talking about is no boy. He is the leader of them. A young man called Waters and although the lady had indeed befriended him, we failed to found any evidence that she might have run away with him. If that was the case, why would him come back months later?” 

“Are you saying that the camp at Winterfell’s borders is his camp?” Jon asked out of shock. 

“Yes, it is. He came to me immediately when the locals started to blame his folks for the animals and the deaths.” Jory raised from his seat a looked straightly at Jon. “What I can do for you in the matter is conduct another inquiry. You can help me searching the woods and even the house if you like. She may have left some trace here, a letter or a journal perhaps. Anything could help and this is an awfully big house. Some would say that there’s no better place to hide.” 

“I appreciate the offer, sheriff.” Jon thanked his old friend with ceremonious distance. “This place surely could shelter more than ghosts and spiders.” 

“I do not envy your position, Lord Stark. After so many tragedies that happened within these walls, even the most reasonable man could see things that would challenge his mind.” Jory took his bowl heat and straightened his suit before paying his courtesies to Jon. “I shall send an officer to fetch you tomorrow morning. In the meantime try to take a look at her room and find any evidence or indication of her whereabouts. If anyone could understands Lady Arya’s mind, I suspect it would be you.” 

Sheriff Jory Cassel left Winterfell at early evening, leaving Jon to his own thought and angsts about the mystery that consumed his thoughts like fire consumes gunpowder. Luwing came to announce that dinner would soon be served and Jon wondered what was the point of ever dressing up to an event that he was likely to attend alone. 

He ate; because there was nothing else he could do while observing the empty places at the mahogany table, while Luwin stayed by his side as solemn as a statue in a church. Osha, the maid, was somehow more pleasant to him, with her obvious disdain to the protocols and ranks. She obeyed because otherwise she would have no money and no perspectives of ever finding another job. 

The food had no taste to him, and the rooms were getting colder as the hours tick by. Another phantasmagoric night within those grey walls. If only he had some company those endless halls wouldn’t seem so frightening, nor that place so desolating. The wind howled outside and brought the sound of hysterical laugh that filled the halls. Luwin took a deep breath while Osha made the sign of the cross. Even they had their own superstitions. 

“Bloody woman!” Osha cursed in a low voice before Luwin could give her a severe look in order to make her shut her mouth. 

“What woman?” Jon asked without paying the two servants much attention. 

“It’s just a silly story that some servants believe.” Luwin replied in a practical tone. 

“Tell me.” Jon commanded sharply. 

“My Lord surely remembered that the Stark Crypt is underneath this house. The entire castle was built on top of it, many centuries ago. Some servants claim to have seen the ghost of a woman walking out of the crypt. It’s just nonsense.” Luwin insisted. 

“It’s not nonsense. The cook has seen her and so did I.” Osha protested out of sheer indignation. “Pale face, long dark hair. She wore an old white dress, like a debutant. She walks the corridors and screams at anyone that sees her face. Some call her Lady Lyanna, but I say it’s the young lady Arya searching for her dead siblings.” 

“Shut up woman! That was certainly too much.” Luwin hissed. “Show some respect to the memory of his Lordship’s lady mother and cousin.” 

The way Luwin spoke surely would have made Jon laugh in another occasion, but since he arrived at Winterfell he was feeling touchy about such subjects. A woman in an old white dress haunting the hallways and galleries. Perhaps Winterfell had its own ghost after all. Perhaps that old pile of grey stones had the power to turn anyone mad. 

“I saw her last night at the gallery. She was close to my lady mother’s portrait. I wonder if it could be my mind soaked in whiskey or if she was trying to talk to me, but it seems that I’m not the only one going mad here.” Jon replied before finishing his glass of claret. 

Luwin remained looking at him with haunted eyes and shocked expression. It was probably the way Jon had spoken about the supposed spirit of his mother. He couldn’t pretend to fear the spirit of a woman that died giving birth to him. He feared no spirit indeed. What Lord Jon truly feared were the living ones. Those were the real monsters. 

He finished his meal quietly. Aside from the sound of his own chewing, he could only hear the furious wind shaking the branches of the trees and the heavy breaths of Luwin and Osha. He thought about what Jory Cassel had said. He tried to remember if Arya had the habit of writing a journal or letters. He remembered of one specific time, when she sent him a letter when he was fighting for King and Country in France. Arya was obviously melancholic, Robb’s death had just been announced at the time. 

“I would like to have the keys of Lady Arya’s room, Luwin.” Jon finally announced in a tone that would hardly leave any room for contradiction. Luwin seemed to be uncomfortable with the sudden request, as he always was whenever Jon opened his mouth to say anything. In the eyes to the old butler, Jon was nothing but a bastard son of a disgraced lady, with too much luck and too much audacity to dare change the ways of that house without even have the right to the Stark surname. 

“The place haven’t been cleaned in a while, my lord. Are you sure about that?” Luwin insisted. 

“What use do I have to a house that I’m not allowed to go wherever I want? Do not fret, Luwin. I’m hardly afraid of a little dust and white sheets.” 

“As my lord commands.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The servants had made sure that every window was properly closed that night to avoid the lights to fade. Jon walked the empty hallways once more, but this time he knew exactly where he was going. 

Lady Arya’s room was at the end of a long corridor at the west wing of the castle and it had been locked up for almost a year. The massive door carved with wolf images protested when Jon tried to open it. Once he was inside the room, he couldn’t help to think about how ironical it was. There was a time when he wished for nothing more than to be allowed to stay alone in that room with his lost cousin. Arya had been just a spirited debutant back then and he was just a boy hopelessly in love that was about to serve the country in the War. 

The room was quiet like a church. The walls were covered in pale blue satin and the furniture was made of chestnut wood decorated with flowers and wolves motives. There were pictures of Arya all around, most of them showing the lady riding her mare, Queen Eleanor. Arya was a sportiest, back then. Horse riding, hunting, fencing and shooting had always been some of her favorite hobbies. Lord Stark had always been indulgent with his daughter’s preferences, while Lady Stark hoped that her daughter would become a great lady of society one day. 

The Arya he knew wished for nothing of the sort. Indeed Jon believed that she had no clue of what she wanted from life but it was certainly more than to marry and have kids. She had a sharp intelligence and spoke whatever came to her mind without thinking twice about it. He hadn’t seen her since the day Lady and Lord Stark rejected his proposal. At the time he had no perspectives, but that was before he inherited half of his father’s fortune. 

He wondered about things he should not, such as the color of her eyes and how he loved her long dark hair and her wicked smile. He thought about the days they used to spend under the sun and the few times they had the chance to dance together. She used to call him stupid whenever he tried to compliment her and Jon could not help the pain that stroke his chest all of a sudden. 

He could have made her happy. He could have at least tried to. 

That room still smelled of her. Everything, every detail reminded him of extraordinary she had always been. Jon opened the closet with reverence, just to touch the fabrics, sense the textures and be reminded of how splendid she looked. 

Jon searched the shelves and drawers of the _boudoir_ and the vanity table. He looked every corner, search for something, anything that might help him to find a piece of the charade. Arya couldn’t have simply vanished from Earth without leaving a trace of where she was going to. 

The night was late when Jon finally gave up his hopes of finding anything, but he gave his quest one last chance when he looked inside her jewelry box. 

His fingertips drew the silhouette of the silver pendent. It gave him a pang in the heart to notice that she had left it behind, but he supposed that Arya would have no use for a token from a former suitor. He had chosen that locket as a birthday gift. She was sixteen at the time and she was happy. 

Jon opened the locket with trembling fingers just to make sure the pictures were still there. Her photograph kissing his as they should be. It opened with a gentle click. The photographs were there, but also something else. 

The thin strip of paper fell to his feet. Jon picked it up with sudden curiosity. An elegant and inclined calligraphy, sharp like the tip of a brand new pen. He had seen that hand write before in letters and dinner cards. He wanted to kiss every word until he read the message. 

_Leave this place alone._

A shiver went down his spine and suddenly Jon did not know if he was afraid or euphoric. It was her hand to write that note and she knew someone would look inside the locket. _I would be the only one to do so. Were you waiting for me, Arya?_

He shouted her name as if he was imposing a competition against the howling winds outside the castle. He called for her at the top of his lungs and was painfully aware that the servants might call him mad. He did not care about such a thing. He wished for her to listen and to know that he was the Lord Stark of Winterfell now and he was where he belonged. He would not go away and he would find her no matter what. 

No answer came and also no sign of Arya. Jon laid on the covered bed and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. Winterfell was twisting his mind and making him irrational. Jon closed his eyes and allowed the sleep to take him gently. His breath soothed and his body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. 

His mind was filled with shadows and wolves’ howls. There was snow and labored breaths. There was sweat and blood covering him and a dead goat under him. He was feeding on the exposed guts, the eyes of the prey were motionless and he felt hungry. He looked up to the woods just to face the giant grey wolf, with golden eyes that looked at him with intensity that was almost human. It was a female and she was in heat. For a moment he wondered how he knew that until he looked down just to see the fury white pawns, half buried in the snow. 

The howls he heard were his and hers. The blood that covered the snow was the one of several dead animals spread all over the fresh snow that covered the floor. 

_Go away…Run away from this cursed place._ A voice commanded him from the darkness. 

He howled when he wanted to scream and say that he was the master of the house. 

_You are no Stark and this is not your place._ The voice insisted. _This is not your place._

There was the smell of smoke in the air and it became too strong to be neglected and it was this smell that brought him from his bloody dreams in time. 

The rug was in flames and the smoke had filled the entire room. Jon’s eyes got watery while he jumped out of bed. He grabbed a mantle and tried to put out the fire with it, all to no avail. He rang the bell used to call the servants, hoping that someone would listen to his call. 

With all the windows closed, the smoke and the heat became almost unbearable to take. Hell must be like that, but Jon was not willing to live the world of the living so soon. It was getting difficult to breath and see anything through the smoke veil. Jon heart voices coming from outside the room. 

The door opened and Luwin entered along with Satin carrying buckets full of water. It took them a while to put the fire down. When it was over, most of the photographs had been lost and the walls were dark. His temple was destroyed within seconds, but at least he was alive and had reason to believe that there was a chance of finding Arya. 

“What happened, my lord?” Satin asked eventually. 

“I don’t know. I felt asleep and woke up with the smell of smoke. I might have been my lamp, but I cannot tell for sure.” He said while trying to catch his breath. “Nothing of it would have happened if the electricity had been already installed.” 

Nobody paid his comment a second though. All of them, with no exceptions, were tired from the day and the unexpected shock. The servants returned to their quarters, while Jon finally decided to call it a night and go to his own empty bed. 

He slept again, this time his dreams were made of long and lonely walks through the woods. He could hear the sounds coming from the gypsy camp and the smell of roasted meat. The wolves’ howls were never farm from his ears. 

In the next morning, he had his breakfast in his room before Satin came around to help him to get dressed. By the time he was properly dressed like the Lord Stark of Winterfell should, Jory Cassel was already waiting for him downstairs. 

They took Jon’s automobile to visit the gypsy camp at Winterfell’s borders. It had snowed during the night, and the road was covered with a thin coat of dirty snow. Jory hadn’t said a word about the fire incident, but Jon suspected that he already knew it. 

“I found something the last night.” Jon finally broke the silence while the crossed the bumpy road. “A note from Arya.” 

“What said the note?” Sheriff Jory asked skeptically. 

“For me to leave this place alone.” Jon said without much enthusiasm. “She knew that I would come here. She let the note in a place that only I would look in. I can’t help the feeling that there is something here that she doesn’t want me to find.” 

“After so many tragedies, she might have believed that you would be the next to perish. Who knows what kind of thoughts torment the mind of the mad ones?” Jory stated. That raised an anger that Jon had been trying to conceal since he arrived at that desolated place. 

“I don’t believe she was mad.” Jon insisted. Jory sighted. 

“I don’t believe that you are mad either, but you started to scream for a woman that could be dead for all that you know, and then you set the room where you were sleeping on fire.” Jory replied with a sharp tone that made Jon ashamed of his late behavior. “If you want to have some credibility here, you better start to act like a man in possession of reason, my friend.” 

“She is alive, and she is close. I can feel it.” Jon insisted, ignoring Jory’s worried face and sight. 

Jon expected the camp to be a mess of colorful tents, domestic animals and curious people dressed in strange attires and he was not disappointed, at least not entirely. There were several tents, chariot and trucks spread all over the snow covered field. The animals were kept fenced and the people, despite of the strange clothes, look less curious than his imagination let him believe. 

They looked at him with suspicion and at Jory with total lack of sympathy and the feeling were mutual. None of the locals wanted the gypsies close, but Jon had no real problem with them as long as they followed the laws. 

It didn’t take long for the camp’s chief to appear. Waters was his name and he was about Jon’s age, judging by his looks. He used a dark beard and was as strong as a bull. His eyes were deep blue and his hair dark as the midnight sky. He looked at Jon closely and his face didn’t show any trace of sympathy toward him. 

He didn’t talk, choosing to make sign for Jory and Jon to follow his lead until they reached a tent at the center of the camp. There was a fire burning inside, to keep the place warm against the harsh winter. Waters seated at a cushion pile and made sign for them to do the same before ever speaking. 

“If you are here for those bloody animals again, I…” Waters started in an angry tone until Jory raised his hand. 

“That’s not the reason for my visit, Gendry.” Jory silenced him immediately. “Lord Stark is interested in reopening the case of Lady Arya and insisted in talking with you about the matter, if you won’t mind it.” 

“You are the said lord, aren’t you?” Waters looked at him with a hint of disdain, making Jon uneasy about the man. “You must be. The two of you have the same long face and frown. Grey eyes too.” 

“I’m her cousin.” Jon said without amusement. That man was proving to be far more annoying than he had gave him credit for. 

“Dear cousin Jon. She told me about you. War hero, wasn’t it? Pity that they would never let the tramp breed with a Stark of pure blood. I’m not with her as I told the police countless times. If I were you I would get the hell out of this place before the curse got me.” 

“I’m not interested in your personal opinion about my stay at Winterfell. What I want from you is details about the time of her disappearance. If she mentioned a place that she would go. Anything that could lead us to her whereabouts?” Jon insisted. 

“She was grieving and she was confused at the time, as I said to the police. She always had a bit of a temper, but it was getting worst. The other Stark girl, the pretty one, she was trying to get Lady Arya into a mental institution. I don’t believe she was mad, but she was definitely disturbed by the deaths. Anyone would be. She said several times that the castle was cursed and who could say otherwise after all the tragedy? She didn’t want to stay and remember her dead siblings and parents. She talked about an uncle in France and an aunt in Austria.” Gendry answered calmly. 

“She never went to Edmure or Lysa. They were questioned at the time.” Jory added. 

“That’s what I know.” Gendry concluded. 

“What about your relationship with the lady? Would you say that it was a proper one?” Jon questioned and was painfully aware of how snobbish it had sounded. Gendry muffled a laugh. 

“Surely it wasn’t. I’m _romani_ and she was a lady. Do you think that anyone would consider our acquaintance proper? She was curious about us and came along eventually. She had one of the women reading her palm and another playing the cards for her. After a while she started to help some of the guys to find an occupation at the village. She was good to us and I liked to talk to her, but if you are expecting me to confess myself madly in love with that girl, you’ll be wasting your time. No matter how fascinating she could be, I know my place and I know that gypsy boys never get the princess at the end.” 

“Why do I have this feeling that you are not telling us all the truth?” Jon hissed, making Gendry reply with a low and powerful laugh. 

“Probably because I’m a gypsy and because you think that the only reason a woman could have to run away from her own house is a bad case of love madness.” His answer was sharp, despite of the humorous intonation that he used. “Evil things happened in this house and judging by the last events, I’m afraid that they will happen again. Giant wolves in the woods killing domestic animals and people alike. Last night there was another attack, but this time it was in our flocks and not one of the local farmers. Some of my men went to the woods in hope of hunting the beast down. We were expecting the giant she-wolf, the one everybody had seen, but what we found was another wolf.” 

“Anyone got hurt?” Jory immediately took his notepad from his coach pocket to write down the new information. 

“Luckily not. I hope the police will do something about it. I’m not looking for gypsy funerals.” The gypsy stared at Jory with a frown. “There are many children in the camp and the women have to go to the woods to search for branches for the fires. They are constantly in danger and with winter upon us, I cannot move the camp to another location.” 

“Can you describe the animal?” Jory questioned while taking note. 

“A male giant wolf. I could say that it is of the size of a pony, or bigger. You’ll have a hard time finding the beast if the woods are covered in snow. It’s an albino.” Gendry looked at them with inquisitor’s eyes, making Jon shiver suddenly. An attempt of blaming him for the attacks was it? Everybody in the region knew about his strange choice of a pet, but Ghost was well trained and mostly peaceful. 

“I had more than enough of this conversation.” Jon raised from his place with blunt displeasure while Gendry followed him with his sharp blue eyes. “I won’t stay here listening to this man while he tries to blame me and my animal for the unfortunate attacks.” 

“I was not blaming you, but I wonder how long it will take until you realize that evil things happen in this God’s forsaken place?” Gendry insisted, with a low dangerous voice. “There are all sorts of monsters roaming the world, most of them hide within a men’s soul. I wouldn’t be surprise if you found out that your inheritance is far more dreadful than you believe it to be.” 

“One last time I’ll ask. Where is she?!” Jon finally lost it. 

“You should look for ghost where you bury your dead ones, not in my camp.” Gendry said in a melancholic tone. “Get the hell out of here and lock that beast up. If I find a white wolf near my camp I’ll shoot it down without a second thought.” 

“We should probably go.” Jory agreed with the gypsy as if he was afraid of the man. 

They left the camp in a sour mood and with no clue about Arya whereabouts, unless they were to give Gendry’s superstitions any credit and start to search in the crypts under Winterfell. Jory didn’t say a word during their path back to the castle, nor he mentioned the white wolf. That suspicion was unreasonable and outraging. If that hideous gossip started to spread he would soon have a serious problem with the locals, and that was something a lord could not afford. 

They left the tent without any further attempt of conversation. Jon’s mood got dark while he walked through the camp. Children looked at him with curious eyes and some had even been bolder to ask him for a penny. He wanted to go back to the castle and forget about Gendry Waters and his damn camp. _It’s the idea that she might have loved him that angers you._ His conscience said bitterly. _She might have loved him more than she ever loved you and this will eat you up during the cold nights._

This poisonous thoughts let him half blind by anger during the path back to the car. They were almost there when a woman approached them. 

She was young and had Gendry’s deep blue eyes and thick dark hair. Her youthful face had a smirk that made Jon remember of Arya somehow, only with a hint of malice that made him uncomfortable. 

“May I read your palm, my lord?” She asked lazily, looking at Jon with sparkling eyes, full of anticipation for the money he could pay for such a silly game. 

“I do not believe in such a thing. You are wasting your time with me, girl.” He answered bluntly. 

“You heard the man, Mya. Get on your way and leave him be. Your brother wouldn’t like it anyway.” Jory said in an almost affectioned tone. If Jon did not know the sheriff he could have bet that Cassel had a soft spot in his heart for that girl with fox eyes. 

“Gendry can fuck himself for all I care.” Mya answered in a very unladylike way that made Jory blush like a virgin. “Your loss then. I might tell you about the things you desire.” 

“What do you know of my desires?” Jon asked skeptically, turning his back at the gypsy girl. “What do yo know about my heart?” 

“I know that it is a black one.” Mya answered with a smirk. “A sad childhood, deprived of a mother’s love and with a father that knew nothing about tenderness. You loved your late uncle, but never really forgave him for the way he allowed his wife to treat you like a bad smell in her house.” 

“Anyone from the house could have told you that much. You are far from being original.” Jon insisted in a dark tone. 

“I read her palm once.” Mya insisted, making Jon’s heart to skip a beat. “I saw you in her hand and I can bet that if I look at your’s I’ll find her there too.” 

“I was a suitor to her hand once, but that was a long time ago.” He said. 

“There’s only so much one can fight destiny. The two of you still have too much blood and history to share. I don’t have to read your hand to say that you’ll find her one way or another. You won’t stop, not even when everything tells you to do so. She won’t be the same girl you lost once, though.” 

“Where is she?” Jon finally asked looking at her. Mya smirked. 

“I don’t know, but she never left with us. What I know is that my brother made us come back to this cursed land for a reason he wouldn’t tell.” She gave him a wicked look. “I’ve always found that there’s no best place to hide something than under someone’s nose.” 

Jon remained silent for a second before he reached for his wallet. The took ten pounds out of it and the money to the girl. She smiled at him pleased with her reward. 

“Come to the castle if you remember of anything that might lead me to her whereabouts.” Jon said plainly. “Thank you for your time.” 

“One more thing, my lord.” Mya said. 

“What is it?” Jon asked. 

“She loves you. She always had.” 

“She told you that much?” Jon asked with a faint hope. 

“She didn’t have to.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon won't give up his quest without a fight. He wants to know what happened to Arya and if he has to threaten some gypsies along the way, so be it. Who knows what kind of monsters live inside the castle?  
> I hope you like this new chapter and live some reviews for me ;D


	3. Chapter 3

Jory left him at the castle and bid him farewell. He offered to take Jon to the village so they could try to find any kind of clue that might lead them to Arya. Jon thanked him, but set no date to pay the village a visit. 

The day had been a bright one, but at noon the temperature started to decrease drastically. Snow soon followed the unforgiving cold breeze, covering the woods and decorating the land with a snow white frosting. Osha brought him tea and cake that made him feel a bit more at ease with the place. From the window of this office, he could see the fires at the camp and the smoke getting out of the chimneys at the village. 

Once upon a time, there were several children living in that castle. All of them happy and well loved, but one. The bastard child loved all of his cousins and in winter they used to make snowmen and throw snowballs at each other, filling the air with laughs. Those children grew up and haven’t seen as many winters as they should have, while the bastard child tried hard to find at least one of them as if such a quest was his only hope of salvation. 

The gypsy girl had been right after all. He had a black heart soaked in bitterness and anger most part of the time, but even a bastard could show some tenderness every once in a while. Arya had been his fair share of such warm feelings. 

_“Where are you?”_ He whispered to nothing while watching the snowflakes dancing outside his window. He could almost see her outside, wearing her thick coach and gloves, with snow melting in her hair while she threw snowballs at him. 

He refused to believe that she was dead too. A world without Arya was too gloomy and unworthy of living in. He wondered for a moment that he had never been the lighthearted kind of men. He smiled so rarely and there was this never ending sense of fatality in his life, especially after the war. Not that Jon had never been happy, but this was something occasional and mostly distant. He was content with his life, if not with his inheritance. Yet everything seemed to be a bit plain and motionless. Arya had always been the one to laugh at everything, even his sour face. Although she was a Stark, she had this lightness and warmth about her and that he missed and craved more than anything. To think of her as a lifeless body made his word paler and every sound around him had a note of sorrow. 

That made him think about Gendry’s words for a second. _“You should look for ghosts where you bury your dead ones…”_ What a dark omen that was, even though there was some kind of wisdom in it. 

It had been years since he last went to the crypts of Winterfell. The place had been built before the castle itself and every Stark that ever lived was buried there. Jon had never considered been buried there, since he was not a true born Stark but once he heard a tale about that place, one that started to make sense. 

There was a bard, long ago, when the Starks were some kind of high royalty in Scotland. The man had visited Winterfell and seduced Lord Stark’s only daughter convincing her to run away with him. The girl disappeared from her chambers and in her place only a rose was left. Eventually she came back home, with a bastard child in her arms, saying that she had been hiding with her lover in the crypts all the time. 

Of course that was only a dark fairy tale to frighten the Stark girls. Jon used to like that story, but not enough to truly believe that one could hide for a year in the crypts without being noticed. The truth was that it was indeed a clever plan, just like Mya have suggested. Everybody in the castle seemed to be afraid of ever going there and in ancient times several secret passages were built in the castle to make it possible for the Starks to run away in the occasion of an attack and most of them lead to the crypts. 

Soon the daylight faded away, bringing along the freezing winter night. There was a thick layer of snow covering the land and no one at the castle was willing to get outside. After a light supper, all of the servants went to their quarters, leaving Jon alone with his thoughts and fair share of bad ideas. 

He grabbed a lamp and the keys of the house. The quietness of the castle was somehow peaceful, as if the fresh snow had forced the place into slumber. He walked his way down the empty halls and stairs, until he found a small door, hidden behind an old tapestry with the Stark’s sigil and moto. The proud grey wolf in a white field and the pessimist words. _Winter is coming._

Winter was never far from Winterfell. It usually arrived earlier and spring had always a hard time melting down the snow that covered the land without mercy. No matter how bright the day was, no Stark would ever be fooled by a brief indulgence. They would never smile at the gentle spring sun, but they would always pronounce their words like a prey. _Winter is coming._

He opened the door with some difficulty and the noise it made could give anyone less familiar with old mansions and castles goose bumps. It had been an eternity since he last saw that place but the uneasy sensation was always the same. 

He went down the narrow circular stairs with a lamp in hand and the sensation of utter discomfort. Mices running in the dark, making little noises, reminded him of the ghosts whispering. He didn’t believe in spirits, or even in another life with a heaven and hell, but that place had this strange power of shaking a man’s believes. 

Jon finally reached the gallery, where several tombs were placed. Instead of marble boards marking the resting place of every Stark that ever lived, there was a real size statue that captured the likeness of the tombs occupant. 

The place was nearly a labyrinth made of graves and stones. A place so rarely visited by the living ones that every little sound could be easily mistaken by something dreadful. The first time he went down there it had been to decorate his mother’s grave with flowers and admire her face sculpted in pale stone, like the face of an angel. Now she was resting between her brothers, Brandon and Eddard, while her only son ruled the castle. 

The statue of Lyanna was exactly as he remembered. Only a bust instead of a full body representation. The same sad eyes and lovely face. 

He ignored the pang in his chest and the uneasy feeling that took him all of a sudden when he remembered the episode at the gallery. A woman in an old white dress. The ghost of some unfortunate Stark girl that could very well be his mother. 

Jon was distracted by all the memories and all of the stone faces looking at him as if he was an unwanted guest. In fact, he was so distracted that he ignored the bread crumbs on the floor and the empty bottle of milk hidden behind the statue of Brandon Stark. He only felt the dagger being pressed against his neck in a threatening way. The cold blade kissing his skin while his body was pressed against his aggressor’s. 

“You should have gone when I told you so.” The husky voice spoke in the dark, almost in a feral grow. 

It was a woman’s voice and a particularly familiar at that, but Jon could not let the sudden change in tone go unnoticed. It was a disturbed sound, a voice that was simply the echo of the one he used to love so much. It was cold and savage, maybe the blunt sign of madness that he had refused to believe. 

“I won’t leave this place and I won’t leave you here.” He defied. They relationship had been an unstable one, but they never got to the point of putting each other in danger. Things had changed. She had changed. 

“I’ll say it one more time.” She hissed. “Go away and never come back. Get a life for yourself in London or Edinburgh for all I care. You can keep the name and the title, but you do not belong here.” 

“The law tells a different tale.” Jon defied her, although the sharpness of the dagger was really hurting at that time. “This place belongs to me now. I can understand that you are upset about it, but surely there’s no need for a murder attempt against me.” 

“You stupid fool.” She cursed under her breath. He could not help the smirk in his lips at the sound of that. 

“I’ve missed you too.” It sounded too affectionate and intimate, just like her blade pressed against his throat. 

“I don’t care about the castle and the title. Just go away and don’t ask why. Just go, Jon.” Suddenly her voice became warmer and the blade against his throat was put away just as fast as it came. 

She walked away and once more he felt abandoned. 

He turned around to face her for the first time. She was half hidden in the shadows of her father’s statue. If he did not know her so well Jon would have easily mistaken her by some bagger. Arya was too thin and pale, wearing an old dress that was torn in several places. Her eyes were like those of an addicted. 

“What happened to you?” He asked out of shock and received nothing but a cruel laugh. 

“Haven’t you heard?” She asked bitterly. “I’m mad.” 

He walked toward her to take a closer look. She was covered in dirt and her appearance was far from being that of a lady, but she hadn’t change that much. Her eyes, although injected and obstinate, looked at him as if she was begging for something. A desperate cry. She needed help and he could give it to her. 

“I don’t believe that.” His voice sounded soft and gentle, almost a peace offer to her. “I don’t know what sort of things might be disturbing you, but I can help if you just let me.” 

“I don’t want your help. I don’t want you to be here and become the next victim.” She whispered. “This place is cursed.” 

“I’m done with all this curse nonsense.” He replied straight away. “I’ve heard it since I arrived in this damn place. Bad things happened here, I understand. Robb and the war, the flue that took the boys, and even the tragic accident, but Arya…This things…Nobody could predict it, but your family is hardly the only one to endure so many misfortunes. I understand that it had been too much for you to take alone and Sansa is far from being someone that you would call for help, but I’m here now and I will take care of you.” 

“You don’t understand.” She sighted throwing her head back lightly to look at him. She seemed exhausted. “Run while you can, Jon. I don’t want to kill you too.” 

“You are confused.” He tried to reason with her, but what he saw was Arya getting even more distressed, as if something was eating her from inside out. 

“Go away, before the moon and wolves can reach you. Go away while you are still yourself and I am still capable of acting like a human being. I’m no longer your youth’s sweetheart. I am a monster beyond salvation.” She walked toward him and there were tears in her eyes. 

Jon had to fight his own instincts to not allow himself to get any closer to her. He craved for her touch and the sensation of having her alive in his arms. He wished for her lips pressed against his in a feverous kiss. Arya talked about monsters and death, while the only thing he wished to hear was the sound of her breath and beating heart. 

“You are no monster.” He insisted. “And I’ll take you back home where you shall live like the princess that you are and be happy again. I’ll make you happy again.” 

“You brought a wolf with you.” She changed the subject and looked away while wiping her tears. “You’ve made this land even more dangerous while there are dozens of innocents living near the village and the castle. You have no idea of what you did.” 

“Worried about your gypsy lover? The one that have been hiding you? Fear not, dear. I would never unleash Ghost on him. I would go for a straight clean shot if I ever decide to kill that bastard.” 

“Being jealous of Gendry is ridiculous even to your standards.” She sighted. “You’ve heard about the death and the attacks near the village borders and the woods. Everyone can describe the beast to you. A giant she-wolf with gray fur. Now you bring to Winterfell a white wolf as a pet and an alpha one at that. What do you think that will happen here? A fight for dominance and food and soon both the camp and the village will suffer the consequences.” 

“You talk of these animals as if they could literally destroy the county.” His tone was gentle and indulgent, as if he was talking to a child that was being unreasonable. “I understand that you are under great stress, but there’s no reason for you to believe that two wolves would be able to destroy the whole village. Jory have already taken measures to make this town safe.” 

“Oh I’ve forgot that you’ve became a sceptic little shit. You man of reason and science!” She said as if pronouncing a curse. “How old fashioned of us, Jon. Both trapped in a third class penny dreadful. How Victorian. There must always be a damsel in distress haunted and cursed by some ancient force that she knows nothing about, and the man of science that refuses to believe anything that she tells!” 

“At least your sense of humor seems to be intact.” He said bitterly. 

“You better mark my words, Jon!” She insisted angrily. “In a month, when the moon is full again, there will be a trail of fresh corpses and you will have no one to blame but yourself.” 

“What will be of you in the next full moon?” He asked soberly. 

Arya lowered her head and remained silent for a second or two. When she looked up again she faced the statue of Lyanna, looking at them with her sad eyes. The similarity between the bust and the lady was mesmerizing. Although the light was weak Jon could not help savor her with his eyes. She was the Earth while he was nothing but an obedient moon, just a satellite gravitating around her. 

_“Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms…”_ Her voice whispered in the dark the lines of that poem like a pray. He knew them all by heart and could not help to follow her lead, 

_“And the autumn moon is bright”._ A shiver licked his body, as if those lines were some sort of dark spell. Arya looked at him and for a second he believed to see fire within her eyes. Perhaps it was just his wishful soul taking the best of him. “Why should I care for an old poem? If I must talk about such delicate art, I would rather declaim those verses about love and longing that I might have written to you if you had ever cared about my feelings at all.” 

“It’s not a poem, but a warning.” She said harshly. “I wouldn’t know how to explain it to you, but Bran understood of such dark matters.” 

“Bran is dead and I’m done with the warnings and superstitions.” Jon insisted. “I will not leave and you will come back to the castle where you belong.” 

“Believe me when I say that I’m doing it in order to protect all of us. If you must have the answers that I don’t know how to give, you should look for Bran’s journal. It might help you to understand the danger.” 

“Fine!” He finally said with probably more anger than he should display. “If that is what I must do in order to have you back to the place where you belong, then I will.” 

“Stubborn fool!” She cursed in a low tone. 

“You are probably right. I won’t give up. I’ve waited for this chance too long to ever consider the possibility of let you slip through my fingers again. I’ll bring you food, something warm to wear and blankets.” 

“Thank you.” She replied dryly. 

“If you change your mind, or maybe if you are too cold in this damn place, you know where to find my chambers. I’m sure that I can warm you up.” He tried to touch her once more before he could go back to his domains, but Arya avoided him like the plague. “I guess that you won’t kiss me goodnight then.” 

She looked at him and her eyes were full of tenderness and sorrow. She looked so much like the painting of his dead mother that for a second Jon thought that he might be seeing a ghost and not his beloved. 

Arya came closer, just to kiss his lips lightly. It was somehow soaked in melancholy, like a farewell kiss and like the days of happiness they once shared. 

“Why does it taste like goodbye?” He asked to her in a whisper, holding her face close to his. 

“Because it’s what it should be.” And there were tears in her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was ready before I managed to hurt my wrist. I'm still recovering but I'm able to post it now. So...Jon finally found what he was looking for and Arya is a bit different from the girl of his dreams. I'm still not sure about where I'm going to take it. Reviews are highly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no use to discuss with Arya when she was so obviously distressed. Jon couldn’t possibly think of anything other than the grieve that might lead her to such a state but no matter what troubled her he would fix it. 

He went back to his room through the empty and dark corridors. For a second he thought about the woman at the gallery and wondered if it was Arya trying to scare him. He should have asked her that much but was too taken by the passion of the moment. That much hasn’t changed after all. He wanted her still, with the despair of a romantic poet and the ferocity of the winter. He would never quite understand that enchantment she casted over him years ago. 

She had been nothing but a girl in a white dress with feathers on her head, having her first taste of champagne and dancing her first waltz. Far from being the belle of the ball, like Sansa; that was what everybody said about her. He had attended the gathering, following Robb after a day at the gentlemen’s club in London. He was just another young man with the perspective of a fortune but too low born to be considered by any noble girl as a suitable match, until the love madness stroke him. 

Arya was dancing with Lord Dayne when he arrived. One could not tell which one was the worst dancer, but she was laughing and the sound of her laugh made Jon smile. 

He walked toward the dancing couple just to steal Arya from Edric Dayne’s arms. She thanked him discreetly since Lord Dayne had been crushing her toes for almost half an hour. They danced for hours, to Lady Stark’s displeasure. They became the talk of the city for almost a month after that ball; the young wealthy bastard and Lord Stark’s younger daughter. It seemed to be his parents’ story all over again. 

Until that night Arya had been just a young girl with a wicked mind. It might have been his subconscious fear of the war that made her change in his eyes. During the long nights in the trenches, surrounded by death, he held to the hope of seeing her again. When he came back to England to enjoy his first license he proposed to her. One week later, a letter arrived at Winterfell informing that Robb had died in combat. 

She was taken by grieve and Lady Stark cursed that union with all of her strength. _She even said that she wished it had been me in that coffin instead of her precious boy._ Lord Stark never said a word to him about that, but promised Jon that he would consider his proposal to his daughter in another time. It was a polite way to say that he would never allow him to get near Arya again. 

To remember that made him bitter. He lay on his bed, staring at the canopy for long minutes, trying to imagine what Lady Stark would say if she could see him now. He was the new Lord Stark of Winterfell, while her sons were all dead. Her precious daughter was hiding under the house and at his mercy. He could have dragged her upstairs, cleaned her and called for a priest in the morning just to make them man and wife as should have happened years ago. He wouldn’t do that, though. Despite of what his life might seem, he wasn’t the villain in a third class gothic romance. 

Jon sighted. He could wait a little longer now that he knew where Arya was hiding. If she was so distressed, he could ease her fears and worries, show her that he could be her family and her home. It was only a matter of gaining her trust back. 

Arya talked about Bran’s journal as if he had been the only one to understand what she had been through. Look for that journal wouldn’t do any harm. In fact it might even help him to understand what had really happened to her, although Jon refused to believe in any supernatural cause to Arya’s condition. 

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves and get some sleep. The sound of the wind whispering through the shutters and tree branches filled the halls and empty corridors. He wondered for a second if he would ever get used to that noise. Jon turned and twisted in his bed in a futile effort to find a comfortable position, but how could he when Arya was sleeping on the cold stone floor in the crypts? _Her place is by my side in this bed._

Slowly his mind drifted away, giving in to the fatigue and exhaustion, while his thoughts roamed all over his late dreams of marrying a lord’s daughter when he had the fortune but lacked the proper pedigree. 

Eventually he was no longer in a ballroom dancing with his cousin, but in a draw room. One of those fine quarters where ladies used to spent their time doing their handwork. There was a young woman by the fireplace and she was reading something that looked like a worn leather book. Her clothes were old fashioned, like something that could have been used by women almost thirty years ago. Her hair was loosely falling over her right shoulder. 

She raised her head to look at him and Jon had seen that face before in countless painting and old photographs. For a second he felt utterly embarrassed by her sharp gaze, as if he had disturbed her. 

“I often worry about you.” Her voice wasn’t exactly gentle. There was something rough and solid about the way she talked to him, as if she was actually giving Jon a lecture. 

“I’m perfectly fine, mother.” He answered him. “You’ve been away for too long. Don’t expect me to bow at your every wish when there is only one of us who are still alive.” 

“Insolent, but I suppose that you inherit it from me.” She sighted. “Why do you insist?” He knew perfectly well what she was talking about. 

“It’s my birthright.” He said firmly. 

“No, it isn’t.” She replied. “Do not claim your birthright. It has nothing to do with a title or an old castle. Listen to the girl and go back to London.” 

“Why you even bother to show yourself to me now? I won’t leave. This place belongs to me and I couldn’t possibly leave Arya behind when it’s so obvious that she needs someone to protect her.” 

“It’s all about her, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded melancholic. “Here I thought that you had nothing of your father in you, but you are a romantic fool after all. Go back to your old life and forget about this place.” 

“What about Arya? Should I abandon her to her own luck?” He insisted, making Lyanna sight. 

“I hoped that you would be a more practical and reasonable man, but perhaps it is too late already.” She wept. “I never wished this fate to my only child.” 

“What fate?” Jon asked, but his mother was already fading away like fume while looking at him with tears in her eyes. 

He woke up from his tormented dreams almost an hour before the sun rise. Jon rose from his bed and got dressed on his own before trying to find his way to Bran’s old room. He was seriously done with all of the creepy dreams and talking of curses and demons. Maybe his late cousin could understand that place better than he did. 

Jon found the room without much effort. The place had been cleaned to exhaustion after his death to avoid another flu infection, but his belongs remained intact. He had been Lady Stark’s favorite child and nobody ever questioned that. That place became her sanctuary during those few months before her own death. 

Jon remembered his young cousin with fondness. Bran had always been a sweet boy and later became a very perceptive and sensible young man, despite of his physical restriction. 

He had no problems to find his cousin’s journals inside the desk’s drawer. It was very much like the worn leather book that Lyanna was reading in his early dreams, but Jon ignored that detail. He sat on the empty bed while opening the journal in a random page. 

**_28th of July, 1914_**

_We are at war against Germany. The telegram arrived later this afternoon announcing His Majesty's decree just to spoil what would have been a perfect day of summer. Father wasn’t surprised by the news and I suppose that he is rather interested in being put to good use again. Robb is excited with the perspective of joining His Majesty’s army, but mama can’t even hear about that. She says that Robb is still too young to face such a danger._

_The telegram was not the only unexpected event of the day. Father’s huntsman found an uncommon pack of wolves near the village’s borders. It might be just an old man’s tale, but he said that the beasts were of the size of a pony. I confess that I’m rather curious about such an extraordinary event._

_I could kill for a chance of hunting them down and Arya is already preparing Queen Eleanor and her rifle. Father gets distressed whenever she says that she’ll kill one of the wolves and have the head as a trophy, but no one under the bright sun seems to be capable of stopping her whenever Arya puts her mind at something._

_I confess that I feel quite anxious myself. Perhaps I’m finally becoming a pessimist, but I can’t help the feeling that something terrible is about to happen. The wolves strike me like a bad omen._

Jon flipped a few pages forward. Those words had shaken him somehow. The war declaration, his days in the army and the last time he saw Robb alive. They had promised to meet each other for a drink after the war, but that day never came. Even Bran seemed to have noticed at the time that the war wouldn’t be like the others and that something was indeed about to happen. 

**_28th August, 1914_**

_The pack has been seen again. This time several goats from Umber’s flock were killed. Father is resolute about sending a hunting party to put an end to the attacks. The thought of it makes me nervous beyond reason._

_I cannot stop the dreams. It have been two weeks already and they become more and more vivid every day. Sometimes I cannot say what is real and what is not. I told Sansa about them, but she immediately said that it was nonsense. She is quite distressed these days, with Robb about to be sent to France and the image of the she-wolf dead at her feet._

_The locals complain about the pack every day and there’s a general fear that one of them might attack human beings. So far it hadn’t happened and I can’t help the feeling that my dreams might be connected to it._

_I talked about the dreams with Jojen this morning and although we had never shared the same kind of interests he is proving to be a good friend. He believes that my suspicions are not entirely mistaken and there are several legends in this family to support it. Skin changers...This sounds very much like something out of a gothic novel._

_I suspect that Rickon has the same kind of nightmares and these incidents are affecting his behavior too. The boy is becoming irrational and furious without any kind of provocation, but things are getting worst with Robb’s departure. I can hear my siblings’ voices whenever I’m inside the wolf but both Arya and Rickon seem to be constantly angry and confused by the experience._

_I’m becoming a superstitious fool while Arya is trying to hold to something real. Jon is already in the front and had written to her. The letter arrived yesterday. I suspect that my cousin is about to commit the most stupid act that any man could think about, which is propose to my sister. He really loves her, I suppose. I guess that he always had and that is a good thing. The remaining she-wolf seems to be more peaceful whenever my sister is happy._

_He sent her a gift and begged her to wait for him. He promised to visit us as soon as possible. I’m happy for them, although I doubt that mother would ever allow such a match._

Jon took a deep breath. Skin changers? Was Bran giving into madness back then? That was nothing but one of many bedtime stories told by Old Nan to scare the children of the house. At least there was a pattern that Jon could identify. Giant wolves attacking the village and roaming over the woods. Maybe one of the locals could give him more details about that attack and what measures have been taken to contain the beasts. 

**_15th May, 1915_**

_We buried Robb this morning. It rained and the day was all grey. Mother is still in shock. I guess we all are._

_Many friends came by to pay their condolences. Jon was there too, with his injured arm. He cried for my brother. He’s waiting for an answer from my parents in regard to his proposal to Arya, but this is an answer that will never come._

_Arya managed so far to keep herself controlled near him, but during the nights whenever she is inside the beast, her control vanishes. I tried to keep the beast out of town when the alpha male was killed last week. I wonder if this had anything to do with Robb being killed in combat. I cannot imagine what will be of her when father and mother forbid the engagement. I fear she might get unstoppable._

**_5th November, 1915_**

_Remember, remember the 5th of November…_

_A man was killed in the woods while picking up wood for a fire. His body was half eaten by a ferocious creature. The Hounds of Hell...The village is in panic and Father does not know how to deal with the locals._

_Rickon is out of control especially after Robb’s death. He attacks anything and anyone, no matter in which stage he is. My brother is more wolf than human, I fear. Only when he is inside the beast his human body gets quiet, but whenever he is conscientious his fits are violent._

_Mother hasn’t noticed yet. She is too busy dealing with her grief and Sansa’s engagement to Lord Jeoffrey._

_Arya cannot help when she barely can get a grip over her own violent impulses. If only Jon was here to help…_

_I feel lonely more often than not. I can control myself and I even like being able to run and hunt. I enjoy having the full capability of my body again and sometimes I wish that I could melt inside the wolf. None of my siblings understand that, though._

_I asked for some books from London and I hope they might help me to understand the pack’s dynamics. I’m starting to believe that it might be influencing me and my siblings._

**_17th June, 1916_**

_I’m positively sure that the wolves have influence over our behaviors’. Arya is the only one who can actually give Rickon limits, but how can she manage to do that when she became a cannon on the loose?_

_I thought that she would kill Jeoffrey. God knows that I wished too, but I’m still capable of limiting my impulses._

_I believe that my sister is behaving like an alpha female, just like the one in the wolf pack. There are only three of them now and only one is a she-wolf. She gives the orders in the pack and she commands the attacks, although the black one often tries to rebel, very much my own family’s dynamics._

_The attack put an end to Sansa’s engagement, and now Mother is talking about sending Arya to a mental institution, which Sansa approves of. Father can’t even hear about it, but the gossips already started. She is being called mad and hysteric._

_I worry about her. She felt from her bed during a wolf dream and hurt herself. The wolves’ attacks also became more frequent and violent. It’s generally her and Rickon causing trouble because their control over the beasts is not as good as it should be._

_It got worse after she heard the news of Jon getting injured in combat again. He is fine and will recover completely, but he will be send back home within a month._

_I doubt that his arrival will make any difference now. Mother will never accept the match no matter how bad Arya’s reputation might be. Jon is too great a shame to be tolerated, even though Prince Rhaegar had tried to reach some sort of agreement to settle the engagement._

_I do not understand why he has to pay for his parents’ folly, though. It had been a long time ago and aunt Lyanna is dead. Jon will never inherit the name, but the fortune should be enough. I’ve talked about it to Father. I am a poor heir to the Stark name and legacy. I have no perspectives of ever fathering a son to inherit my name and Rickon will be my only heir for all that I know. I convinced Father to include Jon’s name in his testament, it is only fair and I’m sure that he would take care of Sansa and Arya._

**_9th April, 1917_**

_Sansa is engaged again and I believe this time not even Arya would be able to interfere. Lord Arryn is a decent man and she seems to be happy about the union._

_Father is considering about sending Arya to America for a while. Perhaps she can find a good match across the sea since wherever she goes the rumors are never far. I barely recognize my sister these days and I don’t know how to help her when I’m already busy trying to keep Rickon under control._

_Maybe America is indeed a good idea, although she finally started to show some interest in understanding the skin changer’s legend. I believe the gypsy boy has something to do with that. She told me that Gendry had shared some of his people legends with her and there are plenty of them, but most talk about werewolves._

_We don’t change into the beast, but we can control the animal’s body and mind if we focus on it. I just can’t say if the other way around is possible too. It’s like...It’s like having a living shadow, one that can make you powerful and wild. It’s sweet and seductive to have such amount of strength and to be a predator instead of a prey for once. Sometimes I wish that I could really become a wolf. I would never feel so helpless and impotent again._

**_1st September, 1918_**

_There’s a general feeling of exhaustion and apprehension. Four years have passed since the war was declared. I buried my brother and saw my house fall apart little by little. When I thought that we have reached our share of sorrow another threat appeared._

_Nearly everybody in the house got the symptoms, but Rickon was the first one to actually be diagnosed with the flu._

_I fear that he may not live to see another day and I cannot forgive myself for not being able to stay by his side. I have the symptoms too and now I’m afraid._

_I might not have the chance to tell Meera that I love her that I’ve always had. I should have proposed to her last summer, taking the risk of the rejection. If I survive this plague, I promise that I’ll ask her even when I know that she would never marry a cripple like me._

_Arya stood by my side the whole day and now she is with Rickon. No one trusts my sister with any important matter since she became more of an animal than a person, but I can see that she is quite aware of what might happen. I fear for her too. What will be of her when I’m no longer near to protect our secret and support her? What will be of her future when there’s no one else to look after her? In her place I would stick with the gypsies and try to understand as much as I could, but Arya has her own ways._

_She will be the last wolf in the pack and no lonely wolf can hope to survive the winter. Summer is fading away and so am I._

That was the last page of the journal and Jon knew exactly what have happened on the next day. Bran and Rickon died during that night as many others have. The Spanish Flu killed young and old folks alike during that year. 

He was in America at the time, occupying himself with hunting and gambling until the telegram reached him. Ned told him the news and urged him to go back to Scotland as soon as possible. He was made his uncle’s heir that year and since he would eventually become the new Lord Stark is would be only natural for him to marry Arya and guarantee her position. It was probably what Ned had planned for him, but Jon’s pride had been too damaged to ever accept this kind of settlement after being so bluntly refused as a suitor to the young lady years ago. 

Jon laid on his dead cousin’s bed for a few minutes, just thinking about Bran’s description of what had really happened within those walls and why Arya was accused of madness. 

Skin changers…What sort of superstition was that? 

He had called Arya a “she-wolf” about a hundred times before. Wolves were very much a part of every Stark since it was the house’s ancient sigil, but never really believed that there might be something more to that coat of arms than simple heraldic. 

Arya could be hallucinating given the trauma. It was something quite normal to soldier after the war and since she had experienced some really traumatic events it might be the reason for such delusional thoughts. 

He could find her help and provide for a good treatment, but it would be probably for the best if he pretended to believe her at least until he had gained her trust back. 

He spent the whole day trying to digest what Bran had written in his journal. Truth be told, Jon had no inclination to believe in the supernatural world or any kind of dark fairy tales. His father had seen to that when he was nothing but a child. 

His father had been a superstitious fool, believing in things like prophecies and curses to the point of ruining his whole family in the name of a great love that had been foreseeing by a fortune teller. Prince Rhaegar had believed an old woman’s tale and Jon had been the one to suffer the consequences. 

He hated all the nonsense in which his life has turned into. Everything in that damn house was soaked in mysteries and superstition, while he refused to give in to his father’s sickness. Even Arya had been consumed by such a delusional nonsense and she had always been so rational and clever. 

Bran had been quite detailed about how bad Arya and Rickon’s fits had been. First they lost conscience, the eyes went blank and their mind would enter the wolves’ bodies. During their most controlled phases the beasts would obey their masters without much fuss, but that was before Robb’s death. If Bran’s relates were to be believed, under the effects of trauma and stress the control over the beasts minds were damaged and the animalistic behavior took over the masters. No wonder that Arya was believed to be mad, since she was the last Stark in Winterfell and had always been close to all of her brothers. 

Apparently Ned had been aware of the nature of his daughter’s disease and tried to get unwanted attention to what was going on in the castle. After his death Arya was on the loose and Sansa either didn’t believe in the curse or preferred a more reasonable explanation such as a mental disease. 

That sounded very much like a dark fairy tale, like The Beauty and The Beast or something equally childish. He laughed at that notion. Was Arya his monstrous bride? If that was the case, so be it. He would have none of that nonsense, this much he had decided. If Arya was to hide behind such an irrational idea as those legends were, Jon would deal with it in the only way he knew. She was alive and he was her only male living relative, which made of him her legal tutor according to Eddard Stark’s will. She would have medical help within Winterfell’s walls, with all the comforts and discretion that money could buy. 

He would make her happy again and when the time was right he would marry her as should have happened years ago. Monstrous or not, Arya would be his bride and that was final. 

Jon waited for the servants to sleep that night in order to take down the crypts everything that Arya might need while he worked on his plan of winning back her trust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue of how to write a horror novel, but I hope you'll like this one. Arya is really unstable and her actions go from one extreme to another in no time at all if she feels threatened. Jon has no clue what so ever of how to deal with her. Bran's journal if the first clue to understand what is going on, but Jon is just too rational to believe it. I hope you like this chapter and reviews are made of love.


	5. Chapter 5

He went down the stairs with a basket full of food and blankets to keep her warm. He also brought her new clothes, books and candles. Jon still couldn’t understand what drove Arya to abandon all the comforts of the castle to live under such degradable circumstances. 

The place was dark and bitter cold when he arrived. Jon let the basket at Ned statue’s feet while lighting the candles. He heard her moving in the dark although her steps were light as the ones of a cat. In the dark Arya circled him, observing his every movement with both curiosity and suspicion. 

“I brought you a few things. I hope you’ll like it.” He said without looking at her. 

She said nothing, choosing to remain distant. Jon raised from the floor to face her. She still looked like herself with a bit of anxiety in her gestures. Her eyes were very perspectives and if anything Arya seemed to be nervous with his presence in her domains. 

“I also read Bran’s journal.” He said looking at her eyes. “I wonder if you would help me to understand it.” 

“There’s nothing to understand. If you have any sense of self preservation you would get out of here as soon as possible.” She answered in a much more controlled tone than the one she had used in their previous meeting. 

“You should know that I won’t abandon you here.” Jon said while sitting on one of the graves. “You need me and I determined to help you in the best way I can. Now come here. You should eat something.” 

“Why can’t you simply go?!” She growled lowly. 

“Why can’t you simply get over it?” He answered back in a very similar tone. “We are much alike, I guess. If this is a battle be prepared for a long siege. Now you sit and eat.” 

It took her a while to realize that Jon had no intention of going away until he saw her eating and was satisfied by the amount of food that she had ingested. Arya came closer to him and picked something out of the basket. 

She sat by his side while taking a bite at the blood red apple in her hand. What an appropriate choice. Are you aware of my intentions, love? He couldn’t help thinking. She had been his forbidden fruit for far too long and now...She was there; vulnerable, frail and so obviously in need of his help. He could just raise his hand and take her. Bury his nose in her hair to smell her scent, touch the pale skin of her neck and kiss it, take her as he should have done. 

A growl formed in his throat and for a second Jon almost let it slip through his lips. His own judgment had been clouded for a second just by the sight of her eating near him. 

“How is it like?” He finally broke the silence. “When you are inside of the wolf, I mean.” 

She was silent for a few seconds, just eating her apple and thinking about his question. Jon waited for her, as he always had, eating her with his hungry eyes and feeling the urge for a touch building up within him like some kind of fever. 

“It’s confusing.” She said. “I see through her eyes and I can understand what goes around me, but I not always can react in a reasonable way. I’m never alone, you see. The wolf is still there and her instincts are stronger than rationality sometimes. I can’t fight them and sometimes I really don’t want to.” 

“Why not? Wouldn’t you prefer to have control over yourself?” Jon asked calmly although that made little sense to him. 

“You would hardly understand what I mean.” She answered with a bitter laugh. “You are a man. You can go anywhere, do whatever you want while a woman’s life if much more restricted. We can marry and have children, if we don’t we are labeled as a failure. I can not live without a tutor because I’m considered inapt to control my own finances, don’t even try to deny it. I saw my father’s will and I know that he named you my legal tutor until I marry someone. In the wild I can be as much as my strength allows me. No rules, no courtesies. I can do whatever I want and go wherever I want and there’s no one to give me limits.” 

“Except for an alpha, if Bran’s appointments are to be believed.” Jon said feeling some sort of expectation running inside his veins. 

“He believed that I had more difficulty to control the wolf because she is an alpha female and the alpha male had been killed. Without another alpha to control the pack the she-wolf become more savage than usual and all of the pack become a gunpowder barrel.” She corrected him. 

“How does it affects you in a human form?” Jon asked while observing her finishing the apple and searching inside the basket for a piece of cheese and bread. 

“I can not say for sure. When I’m inside the wolf my body remains unconscious and I have convulsions sometimes. I’ve hurt myself a few times because of it. I’m more instable I suppose, as if the mind connection went both ways and the wolf influenced my behaviour. I got more violent, sometimes too violent.” 

“That’s why you attacked Lord Jeoffrey?” Arya looked at him with furious eyes. 

“That one I attacked because he deserved! Believe me when I say that I was really kind to him in comparison to his crimes.” She growled. 

“What happened?” He insisted. 

“He was violent to Sansa and...I found them…” She took a deep breath. “He was trying to force himself on her. I couldn’t let it happen. I should have killed him! I would be right to do so!” 

Her hands were shaking violently and her eyes got bloody red. Tears came down her cheeks while she bit her bottom lip. That was enough for him to go to her and take her face in his hands. Jon kissed her forehead and looked at her in the eyes. 

“Hush now, love.” He whispered to her. “You were right to do it. You did nothing wrong.” 

“But I’m still the mad one. Sansa never said a world about what happened. She was too afraid. Harry came later and never asked about what happened. He wedded her anyway and she will love him forever for doing so while I’m here! Half woman, half wolf and going insane little by little. Does it seems fair to you?!” 

“No. It’s not.” He answered her while stroking her cheeks gently. “I’m here now. I can help you. Why don’t you let me try at least?” 

“It’s too dangerous.” She said with her eyes closed. “Haven’t you notice?” 

“Noticed what?” He questioned her without understanding. 

“Your dreams.” She opened her eyes, looking straight inside his. “I heard your voice. I prayed for me to be mistaken but it was too clear. The wolf you brought with you...You are a skin changer too and your wolf is an alpha.” 

“I don’t see how this can be a problem.” He answered with tenderness. 

“The problem begins with a fight for domination. Before you even notice we will be engaged in violent fights. The wolves will try to mark and keep their territory until the male decides that it’s for the best to take her as a mate instead of insisting on petty disputes. One must submit or die, meanwhile there will be constant attacks to local flocks and folk.” 

Jon finally let go of her face and imposed a safe distance between them. For a second he considered her words, even though they were absurd to him. Was that delusional tale some kind of prediction that they were indeed meant to be together? If she believed that than why was she fighting against the obvious solution to her condition? 

“Why don’t make the wolf to submit than? If you can control the wolf, why not command the beast to allow Ghost to take her as a mate? It doesn’t have to become a fight and lonely wolves rarely survive on their own. Let them be a pack.” 

“You do understand that I do feel whatever Nymeria feels when I’m inside her, don’t you? I doubt that I would enjoy the process.” Arya said with a scorn. “Besides, why give up the lead?” 

“If that helped you to have control over yourself again, why not?” Jon insisted. “Aren’t you tired of being alone? Aren’t you exhausted of not being able to control your own body?” 

“We both know that this is not the question that you really want to ask me.” She said while looking at the roof above them. 

Jon took a deep breath while looking at her figura half hidden by darkness. Why was she being so difficult? Wasn’t that the plan years ago? Wasn’t she meant to be with him after all? 

“Come back with me.” He said. That was not a question, that had never been a question. He wasn’t open to negotiations in the matter. Jon wanted her and he would have her one way or another. “Marry me. Let me be your family, your home, or your mate if everything that you said so far is true.” 

“Would it be me or the wolf nature talking?” She asked while looking at him with unusual serenity. “Have I ever really loved you, or was it a trick? The alpha in me recognizing the alpha in you? I don’t know the answers for these.” 

“What if I don’t care?” Jon insisted in adamant tone. “I know what I feel since the day I saw you wearing a white dress and feather in your hair. I saw you at that ball months before I went to war and the only thing that I could think about was the life I wanted to share with you. That’s what made me survive that living hell! That’s what brought me back home! That’s what made me refuse to believe that you were dead like the others.” 

“I wish I had the same certainty.” She replied calmly. “I can not understand what I feel about you. I loved a young man years ago and he was gentle, sweet, and a bit lonely. He was my best friend. Now I barely know this man standing before me, as I barely recognize myself. I still care about you, but I don’t know if this is love or just a trick.” 

“Surely there are marriages that had worst starts. Your parents’ for example.” Jon insisted. “You should see it under a different light. Doesn’t it means that we were meant to be together?” 

“I’m not sure. Maybe I should go away. Allow me to have my income and I’ll find some place to start a new life and keep the wolf under control.” 

“Out of question.” Jon answered out of rage. “I won’t have you running away again. I won’t let go of you without a fight. You are afraid of what wolves might do given to some sort of ridiculous superstition, while what I see is a traumatized woman that was taken by depression. Let me tell you what you should fear. You should fear men. You won’t survive on your own since everything that you once owned now belongs to me.” 

“Trying to make me a prisoner?” She challenged him. “Is that what you’ve just said? Is that really Jon, the man that claimed to love me, talking; or is it the territorial and tyrannical beast talking?” 

“I would never do anything to harm you. I’m not the monster that you seems to believe.” He growled at her and what he received in return was a bitter smirk. 

“You would never do anything to harm me, but it’s fine to rob me of my inheritance and keep me locked up until I agree with your marriage proposal. Even if I don’t agree, what difference would it make? I would still be tied up to you and how long until you decide that you don’t want to wait for my acceptance?” 

“I would never…”Jon tried to reason, but stopped at the moment he saw Arya turn her back at him. 

“You would and I couldn’t even blame you for that.” Her voice was deep and full of melancholy. “That’s how the wolves take charge. We do out of instinct and desire things we would abhor under normal circumstances. You would smell the she-wolf in heat while inside Ghost and you would go half mad to the point of not realizing how much you could hurt me. That’s why I told you to go away.” 

Jon lowered his head feeling torn between anger and the heartbreaking sensation that only rejection can provide. 

“First you say that you are no longer sure about your feelings for me, than you suggest that I would be capable of forcing you.” He said it with utter disgust. 

“It’s not your fault, Jon.” She tried to calm him down. 

“No. The fault is in our stars, in the damn wolves, in my parents, in our blood or what ever excuse you find to shut me off again! Under such circumstances even your father would agree that I’m your best option.” 

“Oh shut up! That has nothing to do with what my father would or would not think. This has nothing to do with your parents either. I’m just not sure if this madness we share is love or some kind collateral effect of this connection with wolves.” 

That was the last drop. 

Jon came closer to her. His eyes on her, filled with determination while he felt all of the rage, the love, the longing and the desire taking him all of a sudden. Arya gave a step back, putting herself in a defensive position until she was trapped between his body and a marble grave. 

Their faces were so close that he could smell the sweetness of the apple in her breath. She looked at him with a mix of fear and excitement. They had been there before and that scene was familiar like the secrets they used to share in the past. His hand on her waist, bringing her closer to his body, enough to feel how urgent his desires were. 

“Tell me if this has anything to do with a damn wolf lost in the woods.” He said in a deep and low voice, close to her ear. “Tell me that you feel nothing at all. Tell me that what we had, the things we did before where just some kind of voodoo.” 

She said nothing at all and Jon took it as some kind of invitation. 

He claimed her mouth in a kiss that waited almost five years to happen. He could feel every fiber in him waking up all of a sudden, as if Arya was some kind of drug to which he was absolutely addicted to. 

Her lips parted for him in the same way they used to, allowing his tongue to explore the cave of her mouth in a way most people would consider obscene. He felt all the urge and the irresistible desire that had been nurtured during the long nights in the trenches. 

She was breathless in no time at all, while Jon kissed her neck and pinned her against the stone wall. In another time, in another era, he might have cared about propriety and modesty, but he was just too intoxicated by her to ever try to get a grip over his impulses. His hands reached her legs, hiking her skirt up to expose her tights. 

He was blind and deaf to the world around him to the point of not noticing that Arya was trying to push him away. The scratches on his arms were not a sign of her desire for him, but an effort of making him stop. It was only when she bit his bottom lip with enough strength to break the skin, Jon came back to his sense. 

Arya pushed him away and this time Jon respected her wish and kept his distance. He felt nauseated and disgusted with himself. He had condemned Jeoffrey for what he tried to do with Sansa, but there he was acting just like the monster that Arya claimed that he would become. 

She was shaking and her eyes were wild. If she was indeed controlled by the wolf then he wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked him. 

“Get out of here.” She commanded with a dangerous voice. One that he could hardly deny. “Get out before it gets ugly.” 

“I…” The words fled him for a moment. He couldn’t speak of how ashamed he was. He could hardly understand what in hell have possessed him. “I’m sorry. I should go and you should rest. If...If you want I can find a room for you. I’ll give you the only key so you can lock yourself up just in case I...I’m so sorry, Arya.” 

“Just go.” She insisted and Jon did not question it. He simply fled the crypts in an attempt of running away from his own monstrosity. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was has a lot of information to digest. While Jon's dreams are not solely wolfdreams, he can't really tell the difference between warging and dreaming. He finally get the chance to experience how the wolves affect their behavior and let's say that he doesn't like it at all. This chapter is tricky, specially the end of it. Although I hate do describe this kind of assault, I wanted to emphasize that Jon is proud of being an honorable man and this kind of act is completely out of his character. He feels disgusted by it and he fears the consequences, mostly because he care to much about Arya to ever tolerate the idea of hurting her.   
> I hope you like it and give me some reviews.


	6. Chapter 6

He did not sleep well that night. His dreams had been filled with ferocity and rage. He tried to ignore the dream since he was probably under the influence of Arya’s dreadful tale. He dreamed that he was a wolf. Not any ordinary wolf, he was inside Ghost. He was hungry and unusually restless. 

The sound of the camp was disturbing. Too much noise and too much food in one place. He sniffed the air around him and his stomach growled. He gave one step closer to the camp. The little ones were playing close to a fire at the camp’s border. Tender meat for him. It would be a feast. 

It was when he heard something in the woods. He smelled the familiar scent before she came closer. The one with golden eyes… 

She was lean and and slightly smaller than him. He had seen her attacking and running through the woods with no fear of men or any other animal. He had heard her singing under the moon and noticed how her smell was getting stronger. 

She growled at him and bared her teeth in an attempt of threat. 

He could almost hear Arya’s voice in the wolf’s growl, commanding him to back off and let the humans alone. If only he wasn’t so restless, hungry and angry. 

She attacked him at the moment he stepped closer to the children, trying to bite him right on his neck. They rolled over the floor recently covered with snow, while trying to bite one another. She was deadly fast and precise in her movements, but he was still stronger. 

They engaged in an ugly fight and she was clever enough to conduct their quarrel to another place. One that was far from the humans. Eventually he gave up the humans and the fight to feed on goats from a local flock. It was easier and he didn’t want to kill a mate in potential. 

When Jon woke up he was still taken by the adrenaline rush. It wasn’t even a surprise when Jory dropped by to warn him of another attack at local flocks and even claim that one of the gypsies have spotted the giant white wolf circling the camp’s borders.The responsible for the house animals had informed him early that morning that the fence where Ghost was kept had been put down by the beast. 

What an unnecessary complication that was. Two giant wolves roaming freely in the woods. He could hardly blame the locals for their panic. 

“They are afraid of your pet, my lord. They fear, with good reason, for their children safety.” Jory insisted in a rather gloomy way. “I’m sorry for all this trouble, but in your place I would consider sacrificing the beast before it gets worst.” 

Jon have acknowledged Jory’s suggestion, but there was no way of him giving up on Ghost, even when Arya’s superstitions started to make sense. 

He would have to deal with the wolves in another way. Try to capture them alive and provide a safer cage. Maybe a prize should be offered for those able to bring him the beasts alive. 

He tried to change the subject discreetly, changing the topic as soon as the chance appeared. Jory was still looking for Arya and collecting evidences of her where abouts, but without much success. It made Jon feel a spoiled brat, but perhaps if the sheriff kept looking for the girl and not the wolves, it might be for the best. 

It was almost noon when Jory left Winterfell and Jon locked himself in the music room just to be alone with his own thoughts. 

He looked at the piano and high harp, remembering how those instruments used to be displayed at his former house and how his father usually lost an awful amount of time playing alone. It was not that Jon didn’t like music, but since his birth the meaning of it in the Targaryen household was somehow tragic. It was just his father composing endless serenades to Jon’s dead mother. 

Songs about the way her eyes reminded him of the russian frozen lakes in winter, comparing her beauty with those of the heroines in fairy tales while prince Rhaegar claimed to be nothing but a villain, just like Koschei. 

He knew that his father had took the blame for her death. His mother had been too young, delicate and innocent to understand how cruel a man’s desire could be. Rhaegar had convinced her to run away with him, shortly before his first wife died. It had been a shame to the Stark name, along with the bastard boy Lyanna gave birth months latter. She had died of complications during the labor and his father had never forgiven himself for such tragedy. 

Jon closed his eyes for a second while resting on his favorite chair. His father had been surrounded by tragedy since an early age and Jon was no better than him. He had dreamed about running away with Arya and latter almost lost the grip over his own desires to the point of putting her integrity in danger. 

He was worst than his father had ever been. His father would never act as such a vile creature. He was too refined, romantic and chivalrous for such a thing. 

Maybe he should give Arya some credit and take her story more seriously. After that damn dream and his sudden attack on her, it was probably for the best if he knew what sort of phenomenon he was dealing with. 

He mused about it for a while. Samwell Tarly would probably know a thing or two about such supernatural events. His friend liked this sort of things and was extremely useful in researches. Curses, prophecies and sorcery, there was nothing Samwell Tarly liked better than a good penny dreadful. Although his cowardice was well known, Sam’s knowledge was never to be doubted. Maybe Jon should invite him for a few days in Winterfell. Maybe he would be able to help Jon to regain his sanity and Arya to get back to her life. 

He took pen and paper and started to right the message he wanted to be telegraphed to Sam on the next morning. He was so focussed on in that he haven’t noticed a door opening behind him, nor the fact that Arya was right there, wrapped on a thick blanket. 

He got up as soon as he set eyes on her and for a second even considered to get out of the room. She was looking at him shyly, which was very unusual for her standards. She was not supposed to act like this. He was the one to cross the limits and let his own irrationality take in. Arya had all the reasons to never look at his face again, but there she was. Acting as if she was the one who needed to feel ashamed. 

“How are you?” She asked in a much more controlled tone than the one she had used with him later. 

“I’m fine.” His voice sounded unsure and feeble. “I suppose that it should be me asking you about your wellbeing.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.” She answered. “I was worried, though. You entered the wolf and things kind of got out of control. The beast was restless and more violent than usual.” 

“Has it happened before?” Jon asked and for a second he felt exhausted. “I can’t remember it.” 

“It had happened, but your wolf is generally calm and very discreet, if such a thing can be said of wild beasts.” She answered him politely. “Your voice sounded clearer this time and the only thing that he seemed to want was attack. It was not for the food, or necessity. He was simply angry.” 

“Well, I was pretty angry, if that has anything to do with Ghost’s behaviour. I was disgusted with the idea of what I could have done to you and to be frank, I don’t know how can you stand looking at me right now.” He sighted. 

“I told you it could happen.” Arya replied just before taking a sit in front of him. “I’m not going to make excuses to your behaviour, because part of you wanted to do that and we both know it, but this kind of thoughts...This impulses, they will get worst because of your connection with Ghost. Your control over your actions will be tested over and over again. For now you can handle them, but it might come a day when your determination will fail and you will be more of an animal than a man.” 

“There’s a way of changing it? I mean, can I get full control over the wolf’s mind?” Jon asked soberly and Arya seemed to consider his questions for a moment. 

“I’ve been trying to do so. From what I’ve learned with the gypsies, the inner beast cannot be tamed, but most of their legends are about werewolves. In this cases, the full moon is a trigger and nothing can stop the transformation. Generally the person does not remember his actions during the wolf stage.” She sighted. “Gendry has been of little help so far, since we are wargs, according to Bran’s researches.” 

“I wonder if the material he used is still in the house.” Jon asked, finally getting back to his sit. 

“Probably. Mother wasn’t able to get rid of it after his death.” She wiped away an insistent tear in the corner of her eye. “I miss them. Bran was the most reasonable about the whole thing as if he had a natural talent for it. He was so clever. Did you know that he died calling for Meera? I never knew he fancied her.” 

“He was afraid of proposing her and get refused because of his legs.” Jon said. “Poor lad. He deserved some happiness in life.” 

“She would have accepted, I think.” Arya smiled lightly. “She liked him and used to say that he was handsome.” 

“It would have been a splendid thing.” Jon replied while admiring her relaxed face. “I was thinking about calling for some help.” Arya looked at him curiously. “There’s this friend of mine. He is my lawyer, but he has a certain fascination for the supernatural. He could help us to conclude Bran’s research and maybe get some answers about how to control this feral impulses.” 

“Are we willing to take the risk of another attack?” She asked skeptically. 

“What I’m not willing to do is to run away leaving you behind. Besides, what would I do if it keeps happening while I’m in London, for example? At least here we have plenty of space and we can both benefit from any eventual discover.” 

“We can trust this friend of yours? Wouldn’t it be risky for him too?” Arya insisted. 

“I trust Sam far more than I trust that gypsy boy.” Jon hissed, making her muffle a laugh. “It’s not funny.” 

“Yes, it is. You only say these things about Gendry because you think that I have feelings for him.” She teased him without even caring about concealing her satisfaction in seeing his angry face. 

“He certainly has for you.” He replied sourly, just to make her laugh harder. 

“Oh please. He may feel whatever he wants.” She sounded breathless. “I does not mean that I’m obligated to feel the same for him. The same goes for you. You grew quite to used with the notion that I’ve interact with no other men that I was not related to somehow. Get over it. He is a friend and God knows that without his and Mya’s help I would have gone completely insane after all the tragedy.” 

Jon fell silent again and threw his head back slightly. She was right after all. Arya owed him nothing, not even respect after his sudden assault on her. Yet, there she was. Sitting in front of him, wrapped in a blanket and acting very much like she used to before everything changed. It almost made him feel at home. 

“You are right.” He finally said. “When everything is settled with this condition of ours, I’ll find you a decent place to live and a generous income. It will be your life to live as it pleases you. A house in London or Edinburgh, and the promise that I will not chase you or ask for anything in exchange.” 

“Gave up your plan of having me for your wife?” She asked with no trace of judgment, or surprise. Arya just waited for his answer, as if doubting that he would ever really let go of his hopes. 

“That’s my dream. It will always be, but I can’t drag you to the center of the picture with no concern for your feelings.” He answered soberly. “Once you’ve loved me. We were young, hopeful and naive. The world was different and so were we.” He looked at her and it took every fiber on him not to shed a tear while he was breaking his heart. “The war is over and so are we. If you decide by some miracle that there might be a chance for us, my offer is still on the table. Otherwise, it’s your life and I won’t stop you from living it the way you want.” 

“After so many years, you still surprise me by being the most romantic fool that ever walked the Earth.” She answered him sourly. “I thank you, though. It’s good to know that I have a choice in the matter after being slave to this curse for so long.” 

They remained in silence for a while, doing nothing but staring at each other. She looked more like he remembered, only a bit mistreated by the time spent hiding from everyone. Her eyes looked tired, but still beautiful like a russian frozen lake. 

“Can we talk about something that is not wolf related?” She finally ask. “I kind of miss having a real conversation with someone.” 

“What do you want to talk about?” Jon let a smile escape. It almost felt like normality for a change. 

“Before you went to war, you had just arrived from Russia.” She said dreamyly. “Tell me again about it. The glittering court at Saint Petersburg, the bears and the swans. Men wearing fur coats and riding stallions in the snow. I’ve never seen you in russian attires. Do you have any?” 

“Yes, I do. I just don’t like it.” Jon muffle a laugh. “My father used to look splendid on it. Fur hat and court formal attires. Very much aristocratic I would say. I’ve never looked good with so much fur. Father used to say that I had a peasant look, but it wasn’t a bad thing. The former tzar looked just the same, and it gives one a ferocious appearance according to my father’s perception.” 

“I can picture that. Quite a mighty figure, with blood red coat embroidered in gold. I would like to see you wearing it one day.” She answered. “I can bet you were quite the topic of conversation among the ladies.” 

“Only because of my bastard status. Most of them were curious about be, but it was Aegon the one to get the ladies attentions.” Jon said with a hint of humor. “I remember the cold. It was always terribly cold and only vodka seemed to help me to get warm. I remember the horses pulling carriages while snow covered the floor and you could see icicle forming on the edge of roofs. Inside the palace it was terribly hot and crowded. I’ve always found it funny the way people dressed for court. It’s so different from England. All so pompous and richly adorned. Women wearing so many necklaces that it was impossible to see their necks. Kokoshiniks heavy with the weight of jewels and tiaras that would make Queen Mary jealous.” 

“I guess Sansa would love to see it.” Arya answered with a content tone. “I never understood why your father decided to move to England.” 

“He often spent summers in London and he was even sent to serve as ambassador in England for a while.It was when he met my mother. He wished to take my mother to Russia to marry her in the Orthodox Church, but she died before it was possible. Since she was buried here, he decided to stay. He sold all of his properties with the exception of his family palace and brought my brother to live in London with us. He would travel back to Russia only to solve any problem he might have with the government, but given the current situation, I believe my father had been very lucky.” 

“What was made of your brother? I don’t remember him.” Arya asked. 

“He escaped service thanks to his admission in Oxford. After my father’s death, Aegon took his share of the money and the title. Last time I heard about him, he was about to get engaged to an heiress and live his life in the way he always wanted.” 

“You never seemed comfortable talking about them. Why is that?” Jon considered her question for a second. 

“My father had always been...Distant.” His voice was heavy with resentment. “He had fallen in love with a woman who wasn’t his sickly wife. He took her as a mistress and when he was finally free to marry her, my mother died in childbirth. I don’t know if my father blamed me for her death, or if I was some sort of painful memory of the life he had dreamed for them. When I reached a proper age, he sent me to the boarding school Robb frequented. Your father intervened and asked mine to allow me to spent time here during summer vacations and occasional holidays. My best memories happened here, with you and your siblings.” 

She smirked at him. There was something soothing on the way her lips curved, as if she had some tenderness in her. 

“I remember you and Robb telling us ghost stories. Dark tales of murdered men and women that committed suicide over a broken heart. Bran used to love them, and although Sansa was always afraid of hearing it, she would never leave before hearing the end of it.” 

“And you was the one who claimed that you would have saved everyone in the story if you had been there.” 

“I guess I’ve always wanted to be a hero.” She sighted. “What a shame that I become the victim of this dark tale of ours.” 

“You could hardly be called a victim, , _volchitsa_.” He called her by the Russian nickname he gave her when he first proposed. What a coincidence that even then he called her “little she-wolf”. “If anything you are a fighter.” 

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Arya came along and talked with him instead of trying to scare him. Here we have a bit of Jon's past and his parents with an honorable mention to Rhaegar, who as not only an absent and superstitious father, but also a member of Russian aristocracy.  
> I received an adorable review by goldenground, but I guess I've managed to delete it somehow. Dear, it wasn't my intention at all. I actually loved your review and you gave me the courage to keep writing this one.  
> Brace yourselves, next chapter we will have an Arya's POV.   
> Reviews are made of love. Give me some will you?


	7. Chapter 7

She bid him good night after a few hours of idle chatting. For once she decided that maybe using one of the empty rooms wasn’t a bad idea after all. Jon gave her the key to one of the empty chambers at the same corridor where he slept to make sure that she would be safe from him or anyone that might enter the room without permission. 

She felt tired all of a sudden, as if the last days had consumed her strength. All she wanted was a bit of rest and a night without dreadful dreams. More than anything she wanted Jon to understand that as long as they weren’t able to control the beasts, there would be no safe place in the county and there would be no chance for them to live what once had been a great love. 

They would do each other no good at all and his sudden assault on her was just the tip of the iceberg. For now she was agile, strong and more used to the transition than he was, but how long until she get worn out? How long until he lose all control over his rational self? 

Maybe Jon’s friend could indeed help them and Arya hoped it to become a reality, but the risk of it was still too great to be ignored. This Samwell Tarly was probably their best chance of a new perspective on the subject since Bran was no longer with them. 

She closed her eyes and tried to remember his face. His slender figure in a well cut suit, with his spectacles and dark brown hair. They had been so close, especially since the accident that left him restricted to a wheelchair. When war was declared, she almost considered it to be a blessing. At least Bran wouldn’t abandon her. He would never go to the front, like Robb and Jon did. How foolish of her to imagine that the flu would spare him and Rickon. The day they died had been the day she gave up living too. 

What she had was no life, only a shallow existence, a shadow of what she had been. Arya closed her eyes once she got under the blankets. That almost made her feel like the girl she had been before everything happened. A warm bed, a home and someone who loved her. That thought almost broke her heart. 

Somewhere along the corridor, Jon was sleeping and dreaming of what they might built together. How she had loved him and how she had dreamed about being his wife. The day he took her to dance in her first ball during the season...She felt so stupid with that damn dress and feathers, but it was only until he entered the room wearing his smoking and white tie. Jon took her in his arms and they waltzed during the whole night to her mother’s despair. 

He was so dashing that day. She was so in love with him back then that her heart ached at the memory. When the war was declared he broke her heart by insisting on joining the army with Robb. She cursed him to no end for doing such a stupid thing. News of deaths arrived each and every day, and she prayed for him to get back to her unharmed. 

He got shot twice, while Robb haven’t survived a german offensive. Arya could still remember the day when Robb’s things arrived and how her parents were devastated. 

Now Jon was back and she was broken beyond emend. How could he still believe that there was any chance for them when everything screamed the opposite? Gendry had helped her to understand the wolves as much as he could, but not even he was stupid enough to believe that one day she would get back to normal. 

Gendry had warned her that being around others would be dangerous. He didn’t even want her to join the camp out of fear for his people. He had been right to do so, although he never let her alone for long. He gave her food and brought her clothes and other things she might need. Despite of the nasty rumors in the village, he remained close and took care of her in the best way he could. 

Oh Jon would hate him for being able to help her. Even before the war, Jon had always been eager to prove himself some sort of hero and inside his uniform he actually believed that he was the mightiest man in the universe. There was little doubt that he wouldn’t rest until he could help her somehow, but Arya simply had lost her faith at this point. 

She wasn’t a princess in a fairy tale, nor was Jon her prince. There would be no rescue and no happy ending for them unless that curse was to be broken somehow. Even if it happened, would Arya still love him? It had been love, or it had been just a side effect of what the wolves felt? 

At least one thing remained true in all this mess she got herself into. Jon was the only family she had left, since she never knew aunt Lysa and uncle Edmure. 

Slowly she dozed off feeling comfortable for the first time in nearly a year. It was usually the same way. Her conscience slip to the wolf’s body and when her eyes opened she could see the naked branches of the trees and the ground covered with snow. It was getting colder and this time she was close to the gypsy camp. 

She heard the sound of steps and human voices arguing between the trees. Gendry was one of them, she could tell by his smell. The other was unknown to her. She could hear her small grey cousins howling in the night, gathering the pack for another hunt, but they were too close to the humans. That would be a problem. 

“This madness has to stop!” The one she didn’t recognize spoke in an insolent tone. “First the spoiled little brat, now that pompous bastard lord. The police won’t make our lives easy as long as these attacks keep going. Since they won’t do a thing, I’ll gather a few good men and go after those beasts myself!” 

“You’ll do nothing until I give the order! This is not our land and I don’t want any more troubles with Lord Sour Face. As long as the wolves remain far from our camp, I won’t shoot them down nor will you!” 

“Hah! Can’t you hear them now?! This fucking madness has gone too far! You are dreaming of that halfwit girl. She used to like wolves. Maybe you are fucking that damn she-beast pretending that she is Lady Arya Stark.” 

She heard the sound of a punch and given Gendry’s size the man had broken his jaw or at least his nose for saying that. 

“You’ll do as I fucking say! I am the leader here, not you Ramsay!” 

“We shall see it.” They said Ramsay answered in a threat. That wasn’t good at all. 

She turned her back to them decided to head back to the pack. She needed to take them elsewhere, or risk being hunted along with her small grey cousins. She sniffed the air and felt the fur in her back rise in answer. In the dark, half hidden behind the trees the white one looked at her with his blood red eyes. 

His teeth bared and a low growl coming out of his mouth. He was angry at the humans as much as he was afraid of what they might do. He was usually quiet and a bit grumpy. He didn’t like the small wolves as he didn’t like to be near humans unless he was hungry. 

She had seem him repealing other male wolves and being extremely aggressive with other members of her pack. She hadn’t like it a singles bit. She was the one to give the orders and he was nothing but an intruse. He had even fought her because she refused to let him attack the humans. The nerve he had to defy her, but most of the time he was followed her from a distance as if studying her. 

This time he was being just quiet. The white male approached her carefully, looking for any sign of hostility from her part. She observed him, allowing the male to get closer. They smelled one another until he started to make quiet whining sounds. 

_Come with me._ He was saying. _Come._ He asked gently. 

She followed him into the wood, walking side by side. As they got distant from the humans and the other wolves, he started to touch her more, almost by accident. It felt like some kind of game he was trying to play and so she answered the occasional bumps. 

She followed him until they reached a quiet place near a white tree with red leaves. The tree had a carved human face with eyes and mouth painted red. 

_Bran..._ The human part of her remembered and the wolf reasoned back thinking of pups playing around that place a long time ago. _He painted that face to scare us._ The human part said. _The broken one._ The wolf answered. _Yes._

There was a dead stag near the tree, still fresh and bloody. Her mouth watered at the smell of food. 

_Eat_ . The white one said to her. His voice was unusually kind and gentle as if the food was a peace offer. _Eat it with me._ He invited and she accepted. 

They ate in silence, staining their noses with blood and making little sounds of approval. Soon they were satisfied and far too slow to consider moving to another place. She surrounded the white tree while he just observed her with his red curious eyes until she laid on the floor with her head resting on her pawns. 

Eventually he came closer and laid by her side. His head slightly turned so his nose would be almost touching her neck in an affectionate way. 

_Jon._ Her human part whispered in the night. He caressed her neck with his nose, licked her fur and bitted her ear lightly. 

Whatever game he was playing, she liked it. 

When Arya woke up she open the door of her room carefully just to check if there was no one else in the corridor. She found a platter with a full breakfast at her door. Jon had left the food there along with a note for her, saying that he would be out of the castle for the day to run some errands. That meant she would be all by herself for a few hours. 

She dressed her cheap dress and coat and then sneaked out of the room back to the crypts where she used her secret passage behind the statue of Brandon I. 

Gendry came to find her at the wood borders near the camp as usual. He seemed worried and she concluded that things weren’t going well at the camp since last night. What Ramsay said was indeed cause for her to worry about her safety and the wolves. 

“You should stop coming so near the camp.” He warned her. “Jory is inquiring everyone here about you.” 

“I thought Jon had called for the end of the searches.” She answered. Gendry made a sound of disdain. 

“I guess he is trying to keep the sheriff busy so he won’t try to hunt the wolves. My people is going mental with the attacks. You should find yourself a safer place to stay.” 

“Jon won’t agree with it. He finally understood what is going on. He is scared and angry with himself all the time. He called for the help of a friend well versed in the supernatural.” 

“Since when do you care about what anyone says? It’s too risky already and Lord Shithead wants to bring another man into this mess?! Is he crazy or what?!” 

“He’s trying to deal with it in the best way he can. Jon doesn’t have a family, you know? His father died shortly after the armistice and his brother was never close to him. I had Bran and Rickon at the time it started. It wasn’t enough to help me, but things got really bad once I was alone in this. Maybe he needs a friend now.” 

“I had always been with you.” His voice sounded bitter. “I guess I wasn’t the one that you wanted. I know I’m no replacement for your family, but I had done my best to help.” 

“I know, Gendry. I didn’t mean it this way. You helped me a lot, but now it’s my turn to help him.” 

“Oh just drop it! You are still in love with that bastard, just say it and we can move on.” He muffled grumply. 

“I have no idea of what I feel for him now. It could be just the wolves taking charge of us.” She said while crossing her arms. 

“Bollocks. You had always loved him, even before this whole shit happened to you. What I think is that you are afraid of losing him too, so you started to create excuses to denial your feelings. I won’t stay here and see my people becoming just another piece in this game you like to play. I have to think of them first.” 

“I don’t want to involve you anymore in this, but I don’t know what can I do to help you.” 

“Stop pretending that you are still missing. Go to the police and tell them one of your stories. Take your life back and try to keep me out of it. Your beloved cousin will be delighted to show you around in his arms once you have done it.” He said it before lighting one of his cheap cigarettes. 

They remained silent for a few seconds. The fume and the sell of tobacco feeling the cold air around them while Arya wondered why Jon had never appreciated smoking like Robb and her father used to. 

“Maybe you are right. Since Jon already know that I’m here, I suppose there’s no use for me to keep this act. I’ll have to think about something, though.” 

“Have you realized that you even look different?” He asked without even looking at her. “You said that your brother had noticed that whenever you had news from your cousin you would be more docile. I have seen you in your worst. Half mad without knowing if what you were seeing was reality or just another nightmare. I look at you now and...You look like somebody else entirely.” 

“I’m sorry for feeling like a human being for the first time in forever.” She snapped back angrily. “I almost forgot how it feels like to have a family and to have some control over my life.” 

“I know! I didn’t mean it that way. I just...You look well. You look like a normal woman for a change.” Gendry answered. “I just think that this whole lie doesn’t have a purpose anymore. Go back to the castle as the fucking lady that you are and try to deal with it as yourself. Remember who you are. Maybe that is the way for you to have a life of your own again.” 

“Will you be safe? If you need help, any help at all, come to me at the castle.” She insisted. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to angry your beloved cousin. I’m fine the way I am.” 

“I mean it. Jon won’t deny you help. He knows what you have done for me.” 

“I hope that you haven’t told him about our kiss.” He teased her. 

“We were drunk and that shouldn’t have happened. Jon definitely doesn’t have to know about it.” She agreed. “Thank you, Gendry. For helping me and all.” 

“Your most welcome, you troublesome.” He smiled at her sadly. “Just make sure that Jory won’t come near my camp again. I could use some peace.” 

She kissed him on the cheek and turned her back at Gendry, heading back to the castle. She had to agree that he was right about many things, especially about the necessity of keeping the lie. Jon would be thrilled with the news, but Arya hoped that he wouldn’t take it as a sign that she was looking for a fresh start for them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Arya's POV! I hope you like it. Reviews are highly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

He had taken the train to Edinburgh early in the morning. His day had been mostly a dull affair. Jon went to the bank to change some of his investments and collect a few jewels that had belonged to his mother from his private safe.

He also sent a telegram to Sam Tarly, asking him to come as soon as possible in order to help Jon. Once his errands were done, Jon took the time to walk before taking the train back to Winter Village.

He was lost at Princes Street, looking at the locals shopping for Christmas. Children holding their mother’s hand and carrying toys. Men buying new pipes and hats. Women buying dresses, hats, gloves and all sort of things considered fashionable to a lady’s wardrobe. Although the war could still be felt everywhere, it was an occasion for celebration for those who escaped that hell.

Jon looked at the window of a fancy shop where dresses were in display. He still had to figure out what have happened to the length of the skirts, but he decided that he should provide Arya with some new dresses and other items she might need, since everything she had had been burned.

He entered the shop and was immediately attended by a young woman with short hair and simple black dress.

“I’m looking for a gift to a special lady. I suppose I’ll need one of everything you might have, from dresses and shoes to gloves and...Other things.”

“Your wife, sir?” The attendant asked.

“A lady friend for now, but hopefully one day she might have me.” He answered plainly. “She is young and has been through a lot during the war. I wish to make her feel more like herself now that the war is over.”

“We have the things to help you with your noble quest. Please come with me.” The young woman said.

He spent an awful amount of time and money in the shop, buying everything that a young woman might need. He wanted to see her in fine fabrics and fancy clothes again; dressed like the lady that she was. Even if Arya would never have him as her husband, Jon wished for her to be something more like her old self. More like the happy woman with the most stunning smile he had ever seen in his life.

He took most of the things with him and wondered how he would manage to hide them from the staff until Arya could get them. That was a thought for his journey back to Winter Village. Thankfully, most of the packages couldn’t be identified. He would ask for Satin to take them all to the castle and lock them in one of the empty rooms for storage purpose or something.

When he reached the Winter Village station Satin was already there waiting for him, along with Luwing who was looking at the train and every passenger with a hint of exasperation and excitement. Jon came down of the train and the butler came to him immediately, followed closely by his valet.

“My Lord!” Luwin shouted, losing a bit of his composure as if he was in a quest of life and death. “My Lord needs to come with me.”

“What is the matter, Mr. Luwing? Has someone set fire to the house, or something?” Jon asked in an attempt of humor, but the butler seemed to ignore it.

“Wonderful news, my lord! Sheriff Cassel has called for you.” The old man took a deep breath. “It’s Lady Arya! They found her, my lord!” Luwin answered in such an emotional tone that for a second Jon thought he might cry.

He was in shock with the news for a moment, wondering why Arya would chose to reveal herself when everything was so confusing and turbulent. When he came back to his senses, Jon commanded Satin to go back to the castle with his luggage and the packages, while he would go straight to the police station with Luwin.

There were two police agents talking in hushed voices at the entrance when they arrived. Half of the village was trying to peep through the window to get a glimpse at the mysterious Lady Arya while speculating about where she might have been during all this time. Jon stormed his way into Jory’s office, where Arya was sitting on a chair sipping tea while answering to the sheriff’s questions.

“I would appreciate if your lordship would knock before entering my office.” Jory said sharply while Arya smirked at him.

“I’m sorry, sheriff. I couldn’t believe when they told me.” He looked at Arya with a mixture of shock and indignation. If she was to put an end to the farce he wished to be informed about it. Jon ran to her and hugged her tight just to give Jory a realistic performance of the lovers reunited. “I can’t believe it’s you. I’ve missed you so much, volchitsa.”

“I know.” She whispered to him while hugging him back to make the act believable. “I’ve missed you too.”

“How...Where have you been all this time? How could you vanish like this?” He kept asking while kissing her cheeks and forehead. “I would have helped you.”

“Hush now, Jon. I’ve already told to the sheriff that I ran away to Glasgow and stayed there for a while. I needed to be alone and as far from the castle as possible. I just want to go home now.” She tried to sound tired, while Jory looked at them with blunt discomfort. “We will have all the time in the world to talk and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“May I take her home with me?” Jon asked the sheriff politely.

“Sure. If I need any kind of information I’ll send for Lady Arya.” Jory answered plainly. “I am very glad to see you again.”

“Thank you, Jory.” She answered gently before turning to Luwing with kind eyes. “Won’t you say a thing, Luwin?”

The butler took a deep breath before bursting in tears. He went to her and hugged her kindly as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I am so glad to see my lady alive. Oh sweet child, I’ve prayed for you every night so you would find your way back home.”

“Hush, Luwin. What Jory will think of such a sentimental rampant? That’s not your usual way.” Arya said patting Luwin on his back gently.

“My lady is absolutely right. I’m sorry for my lack of propriety.” Luwin answered solemnly.

“Shall we go now?” Jon finally asked offering Arya his arm.

She accepted it and they finally left the police station before Jory could make any kind of inquiries. Jon didn’t know what to think Arya’s sudden decision of presenting herself to the police. He tried to not think of it, or act suspiciously until they were alone.

Luwin kept talking with her during their way back to Winterfell. Jon had never realized how much the old butler might have missed the Starks specially when he had been in Winterfell since Robb was born. Arya might not be the last Stark, but there was no doubt that she was closer to the household staff then Sansa.

She had this talent, this natural ability to make friends everywhere especially if they were considered unsuitable to her position. Luwin was no exception. He treated her as if Arya was his granddaughter or something. Jon knew that Bran had been Luwin’s favorite, but there was little doubt about how much the butler cared about little lady Stark.

Once they arrived, Satin had taken care of Jon’s luggage and prepared a room for Arya. Osha came out of nowhere just to peep at them, before going straightly to her mistress with a smile upon her face.

Osha prepared Arya a bath, while Jon waited for her at the parlor. Luwin went to him with a concerned face, while Jon was trying to savor his glass of brandy.

“I was considering that maybe we should decorate the house.” He said soberly. “Now that Lady Arya is back, I think it would be nice to celebrate Christmas again. It is a happy occasion after all.”

“Christmas?” Jon said mindlessly. “Yes. Yes, you are right. I’ve almost forgotten about it. Last time I’ve celebrated we were still at war and that wasn’t a happy occasion at all. By the way, I invited a friend to stay with us. I’m waiting for his answer, but I’m sure that Sam will be here by Christmas time. I would like for you to prepare everything.”

“As my lord commands.” Luwin answered soberly. “Maybe this time things will work for you, my lord.”

“How so?” Jon looked at him confused.

“With Lady Arya I mean. I remember how it was before the war. The two of you riding horses and holding hands in the garden. The little lady was happy back then and so were you. She doesn’t have anyone else and under such circumstances, I think even Lord Stark, may God rest his soul, would agree with it.”

“One step at a time, Luwin.” Jon answered smiling at him kindly. “Arya needs time and tranquility for now. It has been a long time since we last spoke of such delicate affairs. For all that I know, I’m no longer the object of her affections.”

“Nonsense. Anyone with eyes could have seen the way she looks at you.” Luwin insisted. Jon have never imagined that the old butler was that eager for a happy ending.

“Let’s focus on Christmas first and hope for Lady Stark to have me as her suitor again.” Jon smiled at the old man and Luwin left the room with hopes renewed.

It was somehow funny to notice how some people needed so little hope to get their strength back. Luwin was usually so sober and dutiful that Jon was constantly afraid of him when he was nothing but a young lad running around the house. He used to think that the old butler was Lady Stark’s vigilant eyes, always attentive to Jon’s every move.

Now this notion just seemed to be silly. He was nothing but an old loyal man, that lost the family he dedicated his whole life to serve. Arya was to Luwin a candle lightened in the darkness, if not his new purpose in life.

It didn’t take much for her to find him at the parlor. Her hair was finally washed and her clothes had been changed for something sober and clean, probably borrowed from one of the housemaids. It would take a little more for her to look like exactly how he remembered, but Jon couldn’t help to smile at the gracious vision of his beloved cousin.

“This is certainly an improvement.” He complimented her with a faint smile. “Luwin is delighted with your sudden resurrection.”

“I have never realized that he would miss me so much. None of them really. They have been so...Kind to me despite of everything.” She said it with a twist of regret. “I convinced myself that I needed to run away. Now I’m not so sure if the result would have been any different.”

“It’s because of this that you decided to put an end to the farce?” He asked before sipping his glass. “You should have warned me before acting. I’m not good with improvisation.”

“But you looked shocked enough and that’s what I needed Jory to believe.” She answered plainly and unconcerned with whatever he might have thought about her attitude. “Gendry asked me to stop. The searches and inquiries are causing him too much trouble among his people. I don’t want him to suffer any kind of retaliation because of me.” That made him remind of something. A dream, perhaps. Two men talking in the woods about a hunt. An argument.

“The talk in the woods…” He whispered, making Arya look straight at him in surprise.

“So you do remember. That’s good. It means you are not entirely taken by the wolf instincts while inside Ghost.”

“It’s not clear, just...I remember parts of the conversation. Gypsies arguing about hunting wolves and the police. That’s all I can remember.” Jon said.

“Since you found me and insists on staying here, the act made no sense. In fact, it would become more and more difficult for me to come and go unnoticed both inside and out of the house.” She said in a practical tone. “I can’t cause the gypsies any more trouble than I already have and I’m done running from this curse. I am Arya Stark and this is who I am and where I belong.”

“And it took a little chit chat with that fucking gypsy for you to realize that.” Jon added grumpily. “I’ve been telling you this since that day on the crypts.”

“I know, but you have a very personal interest in this and your heart would never be a good judge in the matter. Gendry on the other hand...He told me what I needed to hear even if it was against his own will. I just have to keep Jory far from the camp.”

“By calling attention to us. We don’t know what might happen if the beasts get killed.” Jon added. “That was reckless of you.”

“I’ll try to keep Nymeria far from people and flocks. I’ll do my best to make her hunt only in the woods.” She said in a resolute tone. “I think I can manage this.”

“What about Ghost? I can’t control him. Not yet at least.” Jon tried to reason with her.

“He will follow her.” Arya said convicted. “It’s part of the ritual, I guess.”

“What ritual?”

“Mating ritual. If I’m right and she is about the get in heat, they will move to a place of her choice. I can try to keep her in the deepest part of the woods inside the property. Nobody will be allowed to hunt them there.” She insisted.

“I thought you hated the idea of being inside the wolf during the mating season.” Jon looked at her suspiciously. “What about the whole dilemma about not being able to control the wolf completely?”

“I still hate the idea, but I can try to use it in our favor and try keep myself out of Nymeria’s mind once she is settled in the woods. Ghost should follow her easily enough. I feel more confident now, more of myself. I can do it. Besides, I’m counting on your friend to help us with the control part. How fast do you think he’ll be here?”

“I’ve sent him a telegram today. He shall be in the first train to Winter Village as soon as he got the message.”

“Good.” She answered with a smile. “Now...Would you fix me a drink, or I’ll have to do it myself?”

He couldn’t help smile at her request. Jon poured her a glass of brandy and gave it to her as if the war had never happened, nor all the tragedy surrounding that house. It was just them, sitting, talking and drinking as they have had done countless times before.

“Luwin wants to decorate the house for Christmas.” Jon said in a gentle tone. “I guess he wants to celebrate your return.”

“It has been a while since my last Merry Christmas.” She answered while playing with the plaids of her skirt. “Since your friend is coming, I think it’s a good idea.”

“At least it won’t be so strange when I give you all the clothes I’ve bought for you this morning.” Jon answered trying to muffle his laugh. “I won’t have to smuggle them to you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s cold and getting colder. The clothes you were wearing wouldn’t help you to get warm. Besides, I miss seeing you properly dressed. Consider it an anticipated Christmas gift.”

“I really won’t mind gloves, a pair of socks, scarves or anything that keeps me warm.” She said teasingly.

Sometimes he wondered if she said those things on purpose or if Arya had really no idea of how much of an invitation that looked like. He decided to test his good luck just a little bit by taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it as he used to do every time before taking Arya to dance.

“I could keep you warm, if you ever give me another chance.” He said while kissing every one of her fingers.

“I’m not falling for you so easily.” She said languidly. Jon turned her hand just to give her palm an open mouthed kiss that made her shiver.

“Are you sure?” He insisted just before making circles with the tip of his tongue on her palm. “We used to have so much fun together.”

“Tempting, but no.” She insisted. “This is not a fresh start for us.” This time he took her thumb on his mouth, sucking it lightly. “Stop it.”

So he did, even if it was plain enough that it took all of her strength to say that. She was afraid of committing stupid mistakes and rushing into the dangers that relationship might bring to them. He respected her determination in doing what she considered to be right even when every fiber in him screamed for her.

Jon closed his eyes and got up of the sofa they had been sitting until that moment. If he was to keep his composure and decency, it was safer to go back to his chambers and remain there, where the temptation of Arya would be restricted to his mind and dreams.

“Luwin prepared a room for you and you’ll have the key.” Jon said before kissing her forehead. “You know you won’t resist forever.” He whispered close to her ear.

“If I am to surrender to you, it will be by my absolute desire; not because of curses and beasts.” She whispered back in a tempting way. “Goodnight, Jon.”

“Goodnight, volchitsa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to update this one. I've been dealing with a writing block and a few days ago I've lost nearly all of my documents because my PC died. This one escaped and now I'm updating, mostly because I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I hope you guys like this chapter and leave some reviews ;D


	9. Chapter 9

In her dreams the wolves always walked side by side. The white silent one, even when obviously distressed by the humans and the other grey cousins, would always try to be more careful and gentle near her. He liked to bite her ear playfully and lick the fur of her neck. She had got used to the bumps and whining sounds and the way their noses touched when they felt asleep side by side. But it was when he scared off the other that she was truly able to feel the appeal of another alpha.

He was strong and absurdly violent when needed. His figure demanded respect if not fear even if he was unusually silent. He would never howl like the others and even the sounds he made in an effort to woe her where somehow too quiet and intimate. The white one never needed to use his voice to show how much of a threat he was to anyone. He was sure of it and the other new better than to try to cross his path.

He was different of the others, just like she was. It was interesting to find an equal even though she wasn’t sure if she liked being second in command. That was her pack and she would give the orders. He respected it somehow, never really threatening her position of command unless he was really mad at something or someone. The human part of him was just the same. Quiet, observant, obstinate and dangerous. He made her uneasy for some reason, probably because her human part feared too much.

Whenever Arya woke up, there was this uneasy feeling in her chest, a kind of confusion she could not dissipate. Nymeria wasn’t really bothered by Ghost presence. She allowed him to follow her around and woe her. It was a game they played, an entertainment or something of the sort, even though she was aware of his strength and how it could be a threat to her domain. Nymeria simply didn’t care about it. She liked having someone as powerful as her around, especially when Ghost seemed to be only interested in protect the two of them.

They had found food within the Stark’s state. Hopefully they would remain there and leave the camp and the village alone. Since they were certainly going through the mating stages, Arya assumed that her fear for a domination fight seemed unlikely. Nymeria seemed receptive enough to Ghost courtship. It wasn’t a battle between them, it was more like a partnership.

If her wolf seemed somehow settled and comfortable with the scenario, Arya’s life was a bit more confusing. She had almost forgotten how it was to be around people and to attend to some expectations and decorum.

Luwin was trying to decorate the house to Christmas and although he had done everything in his power to secure her comfort and wellbeing, he also insisted on having Arya constantly chaperoned by one of the maids whenever she was near Jon. It was just proper, he would say. She was a lady still and an unwedded woman, living under the same roof of a former suitor. It was scandalous enough and Luwin would bring up Lady Catelyn’s name whenever Arya tried to speak against his precautions.

Jon seemed to be finding it extremely amusing as usual. He would just sit around sipping his brandy and observed the maid following Arya to the parlor, or the music room, or her chambers, as if they had any power to stop her of going to Jon’s arms if she damn wanted to.

“You know that they would stop if we were married.” He said as a matter of fact, just making her even more annoyed by it.

“That won’t happen anytime soon. Why can’t you simply tell Luwin to quit this madness? I’ve spent months living on my own, for Christ’s sake!” She said harshly.

“It has something to do with his commitment to your family or something. Obviously I’m not trustworthy when it comes to you, even if I am actually the master of the house. Luwin never cared much about my opinion.” Jon answered with a smirk in his face. “Besides, why would I command him to stop when this whole thing makes my day much funnier.”

“You idiot!” She growled at him.

“He actually has a point. Your sudden return raised a lot of questions and suspicions. People had always found you a delightful topic of conversation under normal circumstances, and now you’ve became the center of  attentions. I’m surprised that Jory was content with the information you gave him, but when it comes to the rest of the village...You won’t know a day of peace so soon. Luwin is only trying to avoid any more scandals involving your name.”

“What are they saying about me?” She asked plainly.

“Some believe that you have been locked up inside an asylum all this time and managed to escape. Jory must be checking this one, but he won’t find any registrations with your name. There are those who believe that you’ve run away with a man and was abandoned or the man was killed, so you came back to me, hoping that I would take you back. There are others that firmly believe that you run away with me, and that I’ve been keeping you hidden all this time until it was safe for you to show up. And, of course, those who accuse you of becoming a prostitute to survive, until you came back to your senses.” Jon sighed. “As you see, people tend to be incredibly creative whenever your name is involved.”

“Since I have no reputation at all, I don’t see why bother to even put up this show.” Arya rolled her eyes.

“We are trying to stick to your version of the events. You were grieving and depressed. You were convinced that there was some sort of curse in this place and runaway. You found job in factories and local commerce in Glasgow and I’ll actually be able to find you some references with some friends to prove it. You remains just as honorable and respectful as you have ever been. That’s the story and Luwin is taking care of the last part. We really don’t want people peeping around here or the camp. Gendry wanted to be left alone, and that’s what will happen.” Jon answered calmly. “Besides, I’m trying to avoid to get Sansa involved in this.”

“Do you think that she would come back here?”

“I’m not sure, but she is your sister after all. I don’t want her showing up here pointing her finger at me for being whatever she thinks I am. She wanted to put you in an asylum for Christ’s sake. What else do you think she will try to do if we are anything but proper around each other.”

“You have a point. What about your friend? When he will be here?” She asked impatiently.

“He shall be here by tomorrow morning. I already asked Satin to pick him up at the station.”

“What a good friend you are. Taking the poor man out of his house during Christmas Eve. What should I expect from this friend of yours?”

“A chubby coward with the biggest heart you’ve ever seen.” Jon answered with a light laugh. “And a brilliant man. Sam has a talent for solving puzzles and reading absolutely everything that comes to his hands.”

“He doesn’t seem your kind of ideal company. What about all of the bohemian artists and promising athletes you used to surround yourself with?”

“Most of them died at war, or were too damaged by it. Sam was in the bureaucratic part of it and I met him when I got transferred after the second shot. Working out of field with documents and lots of details gave me perspective. Helped me to distantiate my mind from all that...Hell. I don’t know what I might have become if it wasn’t for Sam and his outstanding optimis.”

“The poor thing will get mad here in no time at all.” Arya answered while taking the seat by his side. “Nobody has ever accused us of having an optimist nature.”

“That’s true.” Jon answered while seizing the opportunity to hold her hand. “Since he will be here anytime now, I brought you a few things. They are upstairs.”

“Trying to make a lady out of me?” She asked teasingly.

“You are a lady. I would just like to see you wearing something that hasn’t been borrowed from one of the maids for a change. You are the lady of the house and it would be terribly awkward if you showed up dressed as anything less.”

“If you say so…”

“Why do I feel that something is worrying you?” He asked gently.

“Maybe because I am worried still about that talk in the woods.” She sighed. “That man Gendry was talking with...Ramsay. I don’t like him.”

“Any particular reason?” Jon asked.

“He is not trustworthy. I don’t trust anyone capable of hurting a woman. Gendry wanted to cast him out after that, but his Ramsay’s father intervene. There’s no secret that they wanted to take the lead of the camp and I fear...I fear the incident with the wolves might become his excuse to set some sort of trap against Gendry.”

“Let this be settled between them. You have already done what you could in order to help him. Now it’s time to focus in keep the wolves under control.”

“You are absurdly talented about it.” Arya muffled her grumpy statement, making him laugh lightly.

“I quite like being a wolf, you know. Things are easier when you don’t have to care about what other think or the responsibilities that you have. It’s simple and effortless to let your impulses rule you. If you are hungry you hunt and eat; if you are scared you bare your teeth and threat someone; if you fancy a girl you go there and fight the other suitors to prove you are the stronger male. I wish wooing you were that simple.” Jon couldn’t help a laugh. “At least Nymeria seems to like my partner and Ghost is fairly content with his lot in life.”

“He just don’t like humans.” Arya pointed. “That’s the real problem. Where did you find him anyway? It’s a strange choice of a pet.”

“I went to America after the armistice.I was there when news of your brother’s death reached me. I fancied myself a great explorer and I wanted to see a bit of the wildlife there, although I found very little of it. I found Ghost by his dead mother’s body. The only one of the litter that remained there. Other lords have dogs, why couldn’t I have a wolf for a pet. He seemed to be harmless enough at the time and I was sure that I could raise him well.”

“What a terrible idea.” Arya laughed at it. “I suppose that it’s very much like you to adopt a wolf pup. You became rather exotic about your tastes and looks since the war. You even look like a  savage with all this hair.”

“Do you want me to shave and cut my hair?” He asked with a smirk. “I haven’t heard any complains before.”

“No, I don’t want you to shave. I kind of like the way you look now.” Arya smiled gently at him. “Quite manly in a very old fashioned way.”

x xxxx

 

For a brief period of time Jon started to believe that everything was falling into place. Even the old castle seemed to have waken up from a nightmare. Arya’s decision to come back to her former life had given the staff a new purpose. Of course Luwin wouldn’t give up his self-imposed mission to protect Arya’s virtue and reputation at all costs, but that was far from being Jon’s main concern. In fact, it was quite helpful if he wanted Sansa to remain as far as possible from the house.

Arya was the one who truly hated Luwin’s actions, which was quite funny to watch. At this point Jon was certain that the old butler was his main ally in his quest for Arya’s hand. Jon was confident that eventually she would come to her senses and realize how easy it would be. They already shared a secret, the same roof and argued more often than not. Anything else would be considered a bonus.

Jory’s silence in the matter was something to worry about, though. He could hardly believe that the sheriff had no more questions for Arya. He didn’t call or come to the castle not even once, which was strange. Jon had provided references for Arya at a small shop in Glasgow, just in case he wanted to check her story, but there was something quite off in Jory’s lack of interest.

There was also the quarrel among the gypsies. Arya was right to worry about it. Gendry’s opositor didn’t sound at all friendly or reasonable. With so many lives in danger it wasn’t a surprise that Water’s leading was being threatened. That was a thought for another moment though.

Satin went to the train station at Winter Village that morning to take Sam to Winterfell. His old friend would be there at any moment. Luwin and Osha had decorated the castle for Christmas as they used to do when the Starks were still alive. It brought back the good memories while Arya helped Jon to decorate the Christmas Tree as they used to do when they were children.

Sam arrived by mid-day and Jon went to the door to welcome his old friend. He hadn’t changed a single bit. It was the same chubby and jolly fellow he had met during the war and for that Jon was thankful.

“Welcome to Winterfell.” Jon said with utter satisfaction before hugging his friend in a way that was very much unusual to his standards. Satin tried to muffle a laugh at the sight of it.

“I was surprised by your invitation.” Sam replied cheerfully. “I had to come and see with my own eyes how you were doing. I’m so glad that you’ve found her.”

“Arya...Yes! I couldn’t be happier with it.” Jon answered with a smile. “It was a surprise. Now, let’s get inside. I have a good whiskey waiting for us.”

Jon leaded the way to his office as Sam followed him closely, trying hard to contain his urban shock. The man was a solicitor from London and as far as Jon could tell he had never had the chance to visit a place as great and mighty as Winterfell. Had Sam been born in another era, he would have already started to write one of those Gothic novels at the first glimpse of Winterfell.

Once the got into the office, Jon served them a generous amount of whiskey while his friend found a comfortable place to rest.

“You seems to be quite well. The life as a lord suits you, Jon.” Sam noticed. “Gilly sent her love and asked me to tell you that she couldn’t accept your invitation this time. She doesn’t want to expose the baby to such a harsh journey or leave him behind in such a tender age.”

“She is probably right about it. The weather can be harsh here.” Jon agreed calmly.

“How do you find your new home and your title?” Sam asked as he took a seat. “I bet Lady Arya’s presence softened you a bit.”

“Indeed it has.” Jon smiled at it. “It also worries me.”

“How so? Is she ill?” Sam asked with genuine concern. “Did something bad happened to her?”

“I wouldn’t say ill, but there are things happening with her. Strange things and now I’m getting affected as well.” Jon said soberly before taking a sip from his glass. “You have always been fond of supernatural things, haven’t you?”

“I would say it’s my peculiar hobby, but why asking? Do you think it might be some spiritual thing? I could find you a good spiritualist or a medium, if you want.”

“No...It’s not spiritual, or at least I don’t think it is.” Jon pointed. “Arya has some...Sort of powers.” The sound of it didn’t feel right on his tongue, but it made Sam look at him as if Jon had just said he was a wizard himself. “It’s hard to explain, but she wasn’t the only one to display those said powers in the family.”

“What sort of powers?” Sam asked avidly.

“A connection. She...She is able to enter the mind of an animal and sometimes even control it.” Jon said and could barely believe he was actually speaking of those things out loud. Not long ago he would have considered that a mad talking. “Brandon...He conducted some research on the matter. He called people with those abilities ‘wargs’. He was a warg too and as far as I understood, this connections work both ways. The warg becomes violent and sometimes too impulsive to control.”

“I thought Lady Arya’s unstable state was due to her grieving and melancholy over all the tragedy she went through.” Sam pointed cautiously. “At least you would convince yourself that whatever she was going through had a scientific explanation and a cure. You don’t sound like yourself at all, Jon. This is the most curious thing about everything you said and I can only conclude that you might have experienced it in some way.”

Those words made him uneasy. Jon considered what to say for a while but before any explanation could be given Arya entered the room dressed like a proper hostess and lady for a change. Jon admired her for a while in her navy blue winter dress and combed hair.

“He is a warg too.” Arya added bluntly just to point that she had been listening to the conversation for a while. “Jon has the same connection with his white wolf, just like my brother had a connection with Summer and I have with Nymeria.”

“I wasn’t aware the wolves had names.” Jon said it out surprise, making her laugh lightly at his reaction.

“You would, if you had asked me about it.” Arya snapped back before directing her attentions to Sam Tarly. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tarly. I’m Arya Stark.”

“Lady Arya Stark.” Jon corrected it immediately.

“Whatever makes you happy, Jon.” Arya answered in an annoyed tone, making Sam giggle.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” Sam greeted her with a warm smile. “Jon was describing the peculiarities of your...Condition.”

“Do you think me mad already, or Jon was right to trust you passion for the supernatural, Mr. Tarly?” Arya asked sharply.

“Please, call me Sam.” He insisted. “I don’t think you to be mad, my lady. I’m fascinated by the whole story, though. He mentioned the name warg, but I’m not quite sure this is the correct term.”

“My brother gave the name. Something to do with norse mythology and giant wolves.” Arya added. “He made some research, but he died before reaching any conclusions.”

“What kind of conclusions were he looking for?” Samwell asked as he picked hi notebook to make some appointments.

“A cure, or at least a way to minor the effects of the primal instincts on us. Making the connection steady and predictable somehow. Neither of us wanted to extirpate the connection since it was a way out of our boring lives, but at least a way of keeping the wolves under control. The attacks are getting frequent and the locals are terrified. Soon the police will take extreme measures to put an end to it, or the locals will hunt the beasts...We have no idea of what would happen to us if the wolves die.” Arya answered as she poured herself a drink. “Can we trust your abilities as researcher, Mr. Tarly?”

“I’ll do my best to help, my lady.” Samwell answered without a second thought as Jon had expected he would. “Would you mind if I looked through your brother’s work, my lady?”

“Not at all, Sam.” She smiled at him kindly. “I’ll have it sent to your room so you can examine it.”

“I have to say that I’m amazed by how fast the two of you got along.” Jon finally pointed, making Arya laugh before taking a sip of her drink.

“You are the one to blame for that. You talked about Lady Arya so much back in office that I actually feel as if we’ve known each other for a while now.” Sam replied and at that Arya laughed louder.

“You must tell me everything about my cousin’s time in His Majesty’s army, Sam. I would love to hear all the details. The dirtiest the best.” She answered in a charming way that made Jon remember of their time before the war and how they would laugh, drink and dance together for hours.

That was the Arya he knew and loved. A clever and charming woman with a fiery temper. Eloquent, charismatic, impulsive and absolute sure of what she was. He could barely keep his eyes out of her as he observed her speaking with Sam.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this one a while ago, but haven't summoned the courage to post it anywhere until now. It was my Halloween project, but I'm not sure about where I'm going to take it. Reviews and suggestions are highly appreciated.


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